


The Nameless Monster

by kanekicure



Series: The Nameless [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (I do NOT endorse the police nor its corrupt system), Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Andrew Minyard, BAMF Neil Josten, Butcher Neil Josten, Dark Neil Josten, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, Non-Explicit Sex, Police Officer Andrew Minyard, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Andrew Minyard, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, andrew is helplessly gay, andrew protects children at all costs, neil goes undercover in andrews work place, used to be titled - Six Shooter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 108,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekicure/pseuds/kanekicure
Summary: Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.-Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: The Nameless [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706071
Comments: 360
Kudos: 810





	1. I Come With Knives

**Author's Note:**

> me starting another dark neil fic - it's more likely than you think.  
> this is cop andrew and dark neil falling in loooove.  
> regular warnings from canon apply here kiddos, most back stories will remain unchanged.
> 
> thank you for reading :)
> 
> UPDATE: when I first started this story, it was before the riots and I had the privilege of not understand the true depths of the corrupt police system that affects countless black Americans everyday and I truly apologize for this. Later in the story I do have Andrew address this, as well as show his distaste for working as an officer, but it does not excuse the fact he is working in this system. My story has not been written to romanticize or make police work seem good, and that was never my intention. I want to make this universe different from reality and seperate it so this can be an escape to those who read this story and have love for these characters. But I cannot do that without addressing the very real problems this system has and the countless black americans who have lost their lives to police brutality. This story is meant to be enjoyed from a fictional standpoint - but we must be aware of what the real world is like and work towards fixing the system and making a new one that isn't built on the systematic oppression, racism, and abuse of the POC in America. As a Canadian, this also stands as well in Canada towards Aboriginal people, and though I am not American, everyone should fight for the equality of others and amplify the voices of those being oppressed. 
> 
> If you are black or a person of colour and find a serious flaw, issue, tone deaf, or ignorant part of this story that needs to be addressed; please reach out to me on any of my social medias (@kanekicure on everything) so I can edit it or take it out of my story completely. Thank you.

The weight of the knives in Nathaniel’s palms brings him a fake sense of comfort- something forged out of an instinctual need and the twisted lies he has been convincing himself of for the past twenty two years. Their twin blades, curved and sharpened the day before, the hilt is matte black and the blade twins the colour, except for the way the fading sun catches along the side of it. 

“Fifteen minutes, Junior.” A voice crackles through on the other side of his head piece and Nathaniel fights the twitch of a frown. He wants to tell his partner where to shove it, but Charles had already faded off into chuckles at the silence that he is met with.

“I have a watch.” He grits under his breath and Charles sighs heavily. As if Nathaniel’s sour mood isn't entirely his fault. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t _like_ Charles per say, he was fine to work alongside with and he followed orders. It was the fact Nathaniel didn’t like anyone who was working under his father, especially people who signed over their lives willingly with egar moods and triumph grins when they made their first kill.

Charles was twenty five, and he followed each category swimmingly as well as topping it off with saying the old nickname that only his father’s closest men use. Fortunately for Nathaniel, he will have his chance to put him in place, soon enough. 

“Targets moving Nate.” Charles chirps up again, “We should move in soon.” 

For a moment, Nathaniel indulges himself in a fantasy of gutting Charles alive. 

"Go. I'm heading in."

He tightens his grip on the twin blades before holstering them alongside his gun. He pulls himself to his feet and begins to leave the roof with a short confirmation from his annoyingly attentive partner. The weight of his weapons rests against his hip in a silent promise as he leans down slightly and starts to pick the lock of the roof’s door, his hands moving quickly as he fiddles with the pins. The door swings open and Nathaniel moves through.

“Where’s the target?” He asks, switching to his black gun, a Glock 22, he was gifted for his sixteenth birthday. He presses his back against the wall and waits for Charles’ response. 

“In the office now.” He says, “Are you sure you don’t need me to take out the guards upstairs too?” 

This time Nathaniel lets himself frown, “Sorry, trigger happy people aren’t my favourite for a surprise entrance.” 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Glad you figured that out, how many guards?” Nathaniel interrupts. Making his way quietly against the hallways red walls. One hand dropping to anxiously tap against his knife on his hip as Charles falls silent. Presumably double checking. 

“Only two on his floor. Allison and I will take out the ones on the street, everyone will move in downstairs and deal with the others.” Charles says finally, “Be careful.” He adds.

If Nathaniel was a better man, maybe he would return the comment. Instead he rolls his eyes before saying his parting words. “Tell me if more come up.” 

The building is built to have the cover of a club. _The Red Luxury,_ was famous for its never ending parties, probably because the owner had sold a shit ton of drugs to the guests. Nathaniel can feel the faint vibrations of a heavy bass and the hums of a pop song filtering throughout the floors. In most cases it would almost be convincing if it wasn’t for the sound proof hallways that lead up to the top floor, the entire place is covered with lush velvet walls that make his skin crawl. He was no fashion designer but whoever decided that this was a good idea might just make Nathaniel’s list of people who should be brutally murdered. 

The sound of faint voices brings him to a halt. He peers over to see two guards standing post outside a decidedly large black door. One is leaning lazily against it and the other’s face is tight with concentration, his eyes attempting to stay forward but kept shifting back to his useless partner with a sense of exasperation. 

Nathaniel glances down at his gun. Even with a silencer it still would be too suspicious. He had to get the guards away from the door without them alerting or radioing anyone. Biting his bottom lip, he moves backwards again, but this time he lets his feet drag slightly on the red carpet underfoot. Sleepy guard wouldn’t notice, alert guard would be on it like a hound - but with his partner not noticing or caring, he would come alone. 

“Did you hear that?” Alert guard says abruptly and Nathaniel swallows a smirk when Sleepy guard fires back with a bored:

“You need to chill for once.”

He almost feels bad for having to kill them.

Nathaniel makes his way back to single washroom he saw when coming down from the roof. He guessed it was for the guards when on duty so he shoulders his way in. Making sure to let the sound lightly echo but he doesn’t let the door slam shut. 

Sliding to rest out of view from the doorway, Nathaniel presses his ear to the wall and listens to the growing footsteps followed by a pause.

A hesitant knock, then, “Uh hello? This isn’t available to customers.”

_Newbie huh?_

Nathaniel shuffles slightly, listens to the quiet inhale that was so human before he starts to push the door open. The hesitance gives away that his rank. Nathaniel wonders in the man’s last few moments what he had done to end up guarding a drug lord. 

Nathaniel watches the man step into his eyesight. He does not let the man open his mouth as he steps forward and whispers into his ear. 

“Ich bedaure.” Before he slits the man’s throat.

He drops the body quietly, he doesn’t let a drop of blood touch his father’s suit before he turns back. 

Killing the other guard is simple. Painfully so. His eyes are closed as he leans against the wall. Nathaniel wonders idly if he has ever truly faced an attacker before today. 

Either way his body drops to the floor and Nathaniel presses into his earpiece.

“Going in.” 

The door splinters under his foot and swings open. His gun is drawn and the woman sitting at her desk snaps to attention. At first she looks annoyed, it seems Nathaniel had interrupted her getting ready. Her dyed red hair was a mess on her head, she dropped the red lipstick when her eyes met his own. She starts moving, either for a weapon or a phone so Nathaniel grabs his knife and throws it. The blade smashes into her phone and skims the tops of her finger. 

The thudding sound of the knife imbedding in the wall with the phone dangling from it brings the room to silence.

“Hands up. Now.” His voice is even, he doesn’t add any heat to the words. However the woman still reads the threat clearly enough. She twists to face him and her hands follow his command. “If you so much as twitch, I will kill you.” 

“Nathaniel.” She responds with, once she begins to catch her breath again, “Your father sent you I presume.” 

Her voice is amused. It makes something curl in his gut that Nathaniel can’t put a name too.

In response he curls his finger around the trigger, “If you are aware of that Ms. Jackson. Then where is your payment.” 

Jackson hesitates, her eyes darting to the outside of her doorway, clearly looking for her guards. Her face has paled considerably, her body inclined to bolt. This was always it with the big bosses. Hiding behind their guards, but the moment that fails they are unprepared to defend themselves. They spend the lives of others to protect their own.

A waste. Such a fucking waste. 

The thing in his gut grows hotter. 

The irony of his thoughts are not lost on Nathaniel. 

“We have been experiencing some troubles, your father must understand that.” Her voice is fake, she is playing brave to save face. But her eyes are that of a caged animal. 

How amusing, Nathaniel thinks, she still thinks she is getting out of here alive.

“This is far past your second chance. Either you have it or you don’t. We do not like doing business with liars.” 

The words are well practiced, he thinks. _We. We. We. Fucking we._

“Nathaniel. Please, surely you understand why I did what I did.” She is pleading. Dropping one shoulder slightly and looks at him through lidded eyes. “Your father will get compensation for what he gave me. I promise.” 

Her hand dips slightly and she pushes it against her lips. He bites back with, “That was not what was arranged.” 

“You are his favourite son, right? His only child. He must care a great deal for you.” She murmurs, her voice dropping. Letting it fall like silk from her lips. Nathaniel almost laughs at her words, his father - caring for something other than power and blood. It was something that did not exist. 

“Nathaniel, let me start with you.” She purrs now. She lets the black strap of her dress dip down her shoulder. “You look so much like your father, I cannot help but want you in the way I wanted him.” 

The burning in his gut is crawling up his throat. If he wasn’t such a well trained actor, it might have even showed on his face. His finger twitches against the trigger.

“Keep your dignity Jackson.” Nathaniel snaps, before he levels the gun to focus on her chest. “I do not fuck women who have laid with my father.” 

He doesn’t dare touch another person. His hands are too sharp. Too cruel.

She laughs, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “Every man and woman in this business wants to sleep with me, you fool,” She thrusts her chin out, in an illusion of calm, he watches the way her body is trembling instead. “Because they know who I am and what I can do.” 

The heat curls in his gut, his limbs, his eyes. Rage, it was rage. The realization almost causes him to crack his facade for a moment.

“If you kill me, what are you going to have to do to with all those kids, _Junior_.”

He wishes briefly that his father would stop fucking horrible people.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at that. Because yes, he is aware of what Jackson does. Aware of how she catches young impressionable _children_ and makes them do her dirty work. Aware of how many died at her hands. Aware of how she hides behind their bodies and collects the money from their deaths. 

He is also aware that he killed two of them moments before too. 

“Do you think using children as drug mules makes you threatening? Teens as bodyguards? You are fucking pathetic.” The anger is slipping past his lips, his father’s rage is moving its course throughout his body. 

Jackson clicks her tongue in disapproval, “Careful Nathaniel, you’re slipping.”

“You have ten seconds to give over my father’s pavement or I shoot.”

Jackson rolls her eyes, he lets her place her hand on her desk. He lets her gload as she stares at him. “You stand there wasting time, letting me talk and distract you while my guards are on their way. You are an embarrassment to your father’s name.” She licks her lips, like she’s a lioness and he is merely prey. “Now run along, little rabbit, and tell Daddy that I’ll see him tonight and we will figure it out then. Like adults. We both know you aren't a killer. You may be the son of the Butcher, but you are nothing like him-”

The recoil of the gun barely moves his arms.

Jackson’s eyes are wide as her hands fly to her chest, the bullet buried near her shoulder. Given enough time she would bled out and die but, that wasn’t Nathaniel’s plan for today.

“Times up.” He says.

The rage is gone from his chest as she sputters blood. He knows no one is behind him, he planned the entire sweep, the entire mission, he stuck his best men on the job.

The adults will be killed - this is his father’s order.

The children will not be - this is the order his father does not know he has made.

They would be taken away under Charles' guidance and Allison’s swiftness.

His father will assume he killed them too. Thankfully Nathaniel was good at hiding things from dear old dad.

He steps forward to Jackson’s slumped figure, her nails crawling against her desk as she tries to take in a raspy breath. He reaches down and pulls her up by her hair and moves his blade under her throat and gives her a toothy grin. 

His father’s grin had always fit on his face so well.

“And you know what Jackson? You’re right.” He tells her, leaning in so his breath brushes against her ear. “I am nothing like the Butcher. Because Jackson, I am so much worse.”

When he slits her throat, he doesn’t bother to step out of the way when it coats his white undershirt in blood.

* * *

Andrew Minyard was already regretting becoming a part of his town's Police department. 

Out of all the places in America to move, surely he could have picked somewhere better than Baltimore but yet, here he was. Waving a bright neon stick at traffic so they don’t see the bloody mess being cleaned up behind him.

When another person rolls down their window and starts cursing Andrew out his hand twitches for his tazzer - it wouldn’t _kill_ the person. 

“Andrew.” A soft, yet scolding voice says beside him. His partner, Renee Walker holds a large stop sign but has now turned her gaze on him. “Don’t do something I wouldn’t.”

Andrew gives a scoff at that. “I didn’t do anything.” 

She gives him a disapproving look and Andrew looks away, his eyes drifting back to the actual crime scene only meters away from him. 

The doors to the _Red Luxury_ club are held open and crossed off with police tape. People are swarming and buzzing about. Pens flying on paper, bright flashes from a camera, low and loud whispers and the same frantic energy most crime scenes hold. 

“Are there even any bodies?” He asks Renee who has also turned around for a moment when the traffic had slowed. “I haven’t seen any body bags.”

“I’m not sure.” She says, “You’d have to ask Wymack.” 

A good idea actually, he thinks briefly. 

With that Andrew dropped his stupid fucking glowing stick and began marching towards the looming building. Renee doesn’t protest or argue, she stays quiet like she usually does when Andrew wanted to do something that wouldn't directly fuck up his life. Maybe that was the only reason he actually tolerated her. 

“Excuse me.” He snaps when he reaches the door and someone raises a hand to stop him. He looks up and frowns when he sees Dan standing there. Her posture stiff and her face calm, so stupidly professional it made Andrew want to hurl. 

“Officer Minyard, you know you cannot go in there. It is an active crime scene.” Her hand never wavering. 

Andrew instead of turning around and leaving, jabs a finger at himself and the badge resting on his chest, “Cool. Good thing I’m a cop.”

He shoves past her hand for it to only grab his shoulder and yank him back. His entire body tenses and he has to fight to not swing his fist directly into her gut and snap her neck for even laying a hand on him. But he wasn’t about to throw away six years of education because of stupid instincts he hadn’t seemed to be able to shake. 

Instead he settles for gripping her wrist back, just as hard and locking his eyes with her. “Andrew, please just follow the rules this once.” 

“Fuck off Dan.” He grips and shoves her hand off of him. “Wymack can bitch at me later. Can I go do my job now?” 

Dan opens her mouth to argue, probably to tell him his job was over at the street with Renee but Andrew doesn’t give her the chance as he storms through the doors and takes in the state of the once nightclub in front of him. 

Most of the chairs and tables are ransacked, there is spotting of blood covering the walls in gruesome patterns. Knives were used in a fight here, and a murder as well, that Andrew was fairly sure of. For a moment his own arms missed the weight of his knives resting against his skin, but the gun strapped to his hip would have to do for now. 

His eyes followed the blood trail along the ground, it kept abruptly ending and starting up somewhere else. Another one was covering the stairs as well, that peaked his interest as he carefully started making his way over. 

Like he guessed, no one looked twice as Andrew walked by. Because for one, Andrew was a _cop_ \- a cop doing his fucking _job_ ; and for two, no one liked him enough to talk to him unless they needed too. 

Sometimes being an asshole had perks. Invisible ones, but perks nonetheless. 

“Minyard!” A rough voice shouted behind him and he sighed, his feet inches away from where he actually wanted to go. He considered ignoring the person altogether because there was really only one person it could be but - judging by the already irritated tone - Andrew was skating on thin ice today. 

“Chief.” He offered shortly as the older man sided along him. “Now what do I owe the pleasure for?” 

“Dan said you refused to stay outside like instructed.” Wymack’s voice was thick with annoyance and exhaustion. Andrew couldn’t really blame him, having an entire police force filled with snitches had to be tiring. 

“Figured I’d be more use here.” 

“You’d be more use to stay where I fucking instructed you too Minyard. Not waltzing around wherever you please.” 

Andrew sighed, moving forward again. If Wymack really wanted to have this conversation he could follow. Carefully side stepping the tape on the floor, he made his way up with a grumbling Chief behind him. 

“I don’t want to wave a fucking stick in the air when I can actually be doing something.” He says to him. “Why aren’t there any bodies?” 

“There was one.” Wymack responded before cursing himself for the slip and Andrew felt the ghost of a smirk tug on his lips. 

“Oh? She killed with a knife?”

Wymack shook his head, before also nodding it, falling into stride beside him. “Gunshot wound and slit throat, my guess is the slit throat is what did her in but the autopsy will confirm it.”

Andrew frowned, “The blood spatter looks like slashing, a lot of it, not just a single cut.” 

Wymack hummed in agreement before pausing at a set of doors before him that led into a fairly large office. He pointed his finger in, “This was where we found the body. She never left this room after she was attacked.” 

“So someone took the other bodies but left hers? Why?” Andrew muttered, only meant for himself. His eyes jumping from the desk to the room to the hall. He pulled his lips between his fingers in the nervous habit he picked up from Aaron. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Killing a club full of people doesn’t make sense either Andrew, yet here we are.” The older man sighs, “Now as you can see, we are doing just fine here without you. Renee would probably like some help from her partner seeing as you abandoned her-”

Andrew raised his hand to cut him off before stomping down the hallway again, his eyes setting on the door raised from the gross velvet floor into cement. He reached it and shoved it open, the door was unlocked and swung open easily. The moonlight spilled along the roof’s top, making an array feeling grow in his gut. Still he took the step out and glanced around.

He wasn’t sure what he was excepting up here. There wasn’t any blood, or signs of distress. Only the soft breeze and the clear smell of the city hovering in the air. Still, Andrew kept walking. 

It reminded him of university. The days that were blurred and fuzzy from medication that sent him flying to the clouds. Begging to be brought down. It reminded him of the late nights he spent on the roof, feeling the heavy thumping in his chest as he told himself over and over again -

_I am alive. I am feeling. I am alive. I am feeling._

But with the loom of withdrawal and the need to sleep, Andrew never stayed long. 

Now he stands at the edge of a random building that was in the middle of a murder investigation and glanced down to the people moving underneath. He even saw Renee and her large stop sign, someone had taken post beside her. Judging by the height it looked like it was Matt.

“There’s nothing here Minyard!” Wymack shouts, “Now please for the ever loving god get the fuck back outside and go back to what you’re supposed to be doing.” 

Andrew rolled his shoulders and gave a silent huff of disappointment as he stepped away from the ledge and started to turn back to Wymack. Deciding to be easier on him today because even this case had him second guessing himself. 

But before he fully turned something caught his eyes on the roof’s floor. Deep in the already cracking grey cement, two words were carved just along the stop of it. It had to be fresh, it was so light that to the untrained eye, it would slip past unnoticed. 

But Andrew dropped in a crouch, his fingers reaching out to trace the words.

Maybe it was a sign. Or some fucked up irony that he was missing. Because no one else on Wymack’s task force spoke German except for Andrew. He stared at the words numbly, his fingers pausing at the edge of it.

 _Ich bedaure_. 

The translation and meaning of the words sparked something inside of Andrew. Something like interest.

_I’m sorry._

In English, _Ich bedaure_ translated to, _I’m sorry_.

* * *

Nathaniel watches the blood swirl once around the drain before it slipped away for good. His hands move easily over each other and the rest of his body, letting the evidence of his day wash away with his thoughts.

The burn against his skin is a welcomed pain, as is the way he digs his fingers too harshly into his hair. Scrapping at nothing, letting his nails crawl along rough scars and enjoying the sharp nips of pain he gets from the already ruined skin. 

He snaps the water off with a sharp turn of his hands, towelling himself off in silence before leaving the washroom. 

Allison is laying, sprawled across his bed with her cellphone in hand. At his entrance her eyes shoot up and she frowns when she sees him already dressed in loose sweatpants and a baggy black tee-shirt.

“You’re no fun.” She says, clicking her phone off and tossing it onto the white sheets. Pulling herself into a sitting position, her look is cheeky but Nathaniel doesn’t miss the slight furrow in her brow. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” He offers, rubbing the towel in his hair, trying to dry it off as quickly as possible, “Why are you in my room?” 

Allison shrugs, “Maybe I missed you.” 

“We just spent the entire day together.” He points out earning him an eye roll as she swings out of his bed. Moving across the floor to stand in front him.

Nathaniel has to tilt his head slightly to meet her eyes, she hadn’t stopped teasing him about that since they were sixteen and she hit another growth spurt. Leaving him in the dust.

“No, I spent the day listening to you kill people through an earpiece.”

Nathaniel frowned at that, “I swore I muted my side.”

“Not the point Nate.” She sighs, and for the first time he spies the dark under circles that line her eyes. He began to wonder if she was actually okay, if she was getting pushed harder than she could handle and he opened his mouth to say something of that standard but was cut off by her sharp hand raising.

“Please, just, let me talk.” Her words are sharp, but he appreciates that she didn’t touch him. After all their years together, she still knew never to touch him on a day where he had spilt blood again. 

“Okay.” 

She hesitates, and Allison Reynolds never hesitates. 

“Why do you keep doing it?” 

Nathaniel blinks in surprise, “Doing what?”

“ _This,_ Nate. Don’t tell me you don’t see what this is doing to you. What you are doing to yourself? You keep bowing your head and running to do Daddy’s every command. Keep firing that gun or using those knives in his name. But yet, then you risk your life to save a couple of strangers. Fuck Nate, I can hear your screams from my room every _fucking_ night, you hate this.” Allison snaps, this time, she seems to forget their rule and shoves him in the chest harshly. Neither of them blink when he caves with it, instead of keeping his ground, like they both know he could. 

“I don’t have a choice.” He says, more to himself than to her. But judging by how eyes blowing wide in anger, she still heard it.

“You don’t-? Fuck Nate! Drop the bullshit! You aren’t a mindless fucking puppet. You have to know that, I have sat on my ass and watched you for years. Years of avoiding your father’s real goals. Years of finding ways to get people out, years of screaming yourself to sleep because you can’t forget a single face of every person you have killed. I just spend the past month watching figuring out some fucking plan to save those lost causes of kids because _you-”_ She shoves a finger in his chest, “- _do not want to be a bad man_.” 

Nathaniel grinds his teeth together tightly, the words like knives dancing across already ruined skin. 

“It isn’t your fault that you grew up under that asshole. You keep acting like you are some big monster but turn your face to me and tell me that I’m a good person. That I am someone worth keeping alive and should strive to live a happy life. That you’ll take that blow for me if I wanted it. And you know what I did to get into this shit? I fucking willingly sighed myself up to organized crime because I was _bored._ I wanted to piss off my parents and run away, so I became a murder.” She’s shaking, and for the first time, Nathaniel thinks he sees the brimming of tears in her eyes. “If you’re a monster, what does that make me?” 

“You were a kid- you had no idea.” He starts but she shakes her head violently. 

“I just cleaned up twenty dead bodies today Nate, I helped kill some of them.”

“And who’s orders were you following?” He snaps back. 

Her eyes soften slightly as she takes a hesitant step forward and he starts noticing that the room is beginning to feel alot smaller than it should, “What I’m trying to say is that we still have a chance, Nate. You don’t have to be this bad man the world is trying to make you, that you are trying to convince yourself you are.”

Something cracks. Something that Nathaniel has known for too long to be the blood of his father in his veins. 

He sees the small step Allison takes back again when he laughs. His hands flying to his face, grabbing up desperately to crawl the growing grin off his mouth. 

“Oh _fuck off_ Allison, you know jack shit about me.” He hisses, his eyes snapping to her own. She doesn’t flinch. “I killed two kids today. I don’t give a fuck how old they were, because they weren’t fucking old enough to be slaughtered like pigs. And you know what? I honestly don’t feel that bad for it, because I got His job finished and I got to slit the throat of some bitch who made me a little annoyed.” 

“- _Annoyed?_ Nate you-” 

“- _Do not fucking interrupt me_ .” His voice has edged onto a growl. He knows he’s speaking how his father would, he knows what voice he is using. Because he has used it time and time again to make someone fear him. Oh how his mother would love to see him now. “I figured a way to get those kids out because I still have some sense in my head that I don’t want more of… of _this-_ ” He stabs a finger at himself, “-To be created.” 

Allison crosses her arms, always that never ending fire in her, as she stares him down. “So what? That was just apathy? A cold heartless copy of his Daddy? All of that was supposed to prove me that you don’t give a shit about other people?” She laughs, it’s hoarse and scratchy when it leaves her throat. “Tell that to the hundred other people you’ve saved when working under your father.” 

“Get the fuck out of my room.” His body is shaking, part of him wanting to agree with Allison. The other is begging to grab his knife.

For once, Allison listens, but she pauses at the door. She glances over at him for a moment and presses her lips into a thin line. “Your father asked for you. I would get going.”

Nathaniel says nothing.

“And Nate? Don’t let him make you into him.” She keeps her eyes on him, “Stop letting him get into your head, before it’s too late.”

He feels nothing when she shuts the door quietly, because slamming doors make him panic. 

He feels nothing when he dresses himself, and nothing when he hears Allison’s sobs from her room as he leaves their shared apartment. 

He feels nothing, nothing, _nothing, nothing, nothing_.

-

Nathaniel Wesninski was ten years old when he promised that he would kill his father.

Nathaniel Wesninski was now twenty two years old and still staring at his father in front of him. His father who sat back against his chair, with no tension in his frame. His father, who wasn’t even armed as he called Nathaniel into his office. His father who hadn’t bothered to post guards anywhere in his room when he enters.

How easy it would be to slit his throat. 

How easy would it be to watch him bleed to death as he stares in his dimming eyes. How easy it would be for him to make his father know that his own son was the one who stripped him from all his power.

But still, something stopped him every time. 

_Not yet._ Some part of him hissed, freezing his hand before it had the chance to curl around the blade waiting against his hip. 

_Not yet._

Nathaniel swallowed. 

He met matching ice blue eyes as a cruel grin slipped across the familiar features. Nathaniel kept his own expression cold as he raised his head in acknowledgement. The scars under his collared shirt burned when his father moved quickly, shifting, in his seat. But he no longer flinched. 

“Junior.” His father says, clasping his hands together before resting his chin on them. “Something new has come to my attention.”

“Something so important you couldn’t phone me, but instead made me drive all the way here?” He asks, because a healthy amount of pushing was needed so his act seemed realistic. The bite back was what kept him alive, it was what kept the people who craved so desperately to hurt him to keep their distance. Or maybe it was because some part of him was still pissed at Allison.

“Yes, Junior, I have a very, very, important task for you.” He taps his finger against a stack of white papers resting beside him. Nathaniel ignores them. “We will consider it your apology.”

Ice coated Nathaniel’s veins, suddenly, through his numb mind, the nothing was disappearing. Replaced for the one thing he never missed. Fear was a powerful thing, but yet, he still didn't let it show in his eyes. 

“An apology?” He asked flatly and his father laughed. 

“For killing one of my whores.” He replies with. Saying the words like they were easy and carried no serious meaning. But a life of trying to avoid his father’s rage told him something different.

_You are being punished._

Instead, Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, “You told me to handle her. To which I did. Be specific next time.”

He doesn’t flinch when his father slams his fists into the desk and lurches forward, his teeth gritted together and the manic gleam takes over his eyes. Snapping so easily, just like Nathaniel had before.

“She was valuable you fool! I told you to scare the bitch. Not fucking gut her.”

“I removed the problem.” Nathaniel snaps, “Get higher standards in the future.”

His father stared at him, the ticking of the clock was starting to feel like a countdown and Nathaniel shifted his grip closer to his knives as another smile started carving itself across the Butcher’s lips. 

_He’s going to attack, he’s going to attack, he’s going to attack-_

“You know, I’ve been telling myself that ever since I fucked your worthless excuse of a mother.”

Red blinds his vision the moment the words hit. His breath leaves him in a hiss and he knows his facade cracks in half when the laughter booms out of his father. There is a knife in his hands before he has time to think about it, posed to strike -

_Not yet._

-he doesn’t relish in the sound of it hitting the wall behind his father’s desk. 

Who has not not stopped laughing. 

“Such a momma’s boy still hm?” His father says, leaning forward into his space before he slaps him across the face quickly and then curls his fingers around Nathaniel’s jaw. Forcing him to look forward at the mirror reflection of his future self. “Yet you are every inch me.”

Nathaniel says nothing. 

His father seems pleased with that. 

“You’ll be going undercover as civilian consultant for the Baltimore Police starting next week.” He starts abruptly, dropping his chin and settling back into his chair as if nothing had happened.

The words make his body stiffen, his eyes now falling to the papers on the desk before him.

“There is a leak in our ranks, snuff them out and kill them. Figure out who is slipping the information over. Figure out what they have on the family and kill anyone who is too close to the truth.” 

Nathaniel takes the papers from his father. 

“Make your new identity, make them trust you. I need someone on the inside. I figured this would be good for you since you are such a good actor, hm? A final test for you Junior, of sorts.”

His heart rate is picking up dangerously fast, Allison’s voice in his ear - she warned him.

“Final?” He hates the questions the moment it leaves his mouth. He hates how he knows that he has walked directly into the trap his father had laid out for him.

He also hates how his father has also willingly walked into the trap Nathaniel made for him.

“Then you become my second. You won’t just be my son, you’ll be the next Butcher.” 

For all the years he’s known his father. There was one thing he knew he would never let go of. His power. His power gave him everything he needed, his power made him the monster of nightmares he so craved to be. Everyone told Nathaniel how much he looked like his father, how much he acted like him - but Nathaniel also never thought his father would give up his title. He figured he would take it to the grave. 

Allison’s fingernails are tapping anxiously in his mind, chanting over and over again, ‘ _before it is too late, too late, too late, too late’._

“Why?” He asks. 

His father decidedly ignores the fact the question is clearly directed at his recent confession. Instead nodding towards the papers gripped in Nathaniel’s hands.

“The Moriyama’s have given me this task.” His smile grows. “Now take it and make your father proud, son.” 

He grabs the knife from the wall and gives it back to Nathaniel. Who takes it in sweaty palms and stands, his skin trying to crawl off his body at the words lingering behind him. His body twitches - his mind reels. 

For a moment he sees his mother’s limp body.

_“Make daddy proud.” His mother’s voice was soft, “He will be nicer for you if you do.”_

That was the last conversation he had ever had with his mother before she was killed. 

Nathaniel was beginning to regret ever listening to her.

* * *

spotify playlist - [x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tGVG8DYcga1vSmnvXj5j6?si=LsAPDJAmT26pZiKgRnmhbQ)

tumblr - [x](https://kanekicure.tumblr.com/)


	2. Morph Into Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard meets his new partner, and decides that he most definitely hates him. 
> 
> Nathaniel Wesninski dawns his new mask of Neil Josten and realizes that this job is going to be harder than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings; reference to childhood abuse and mentioned murder. 
> 
> chapter title song; 'morph' by twenty one pilots
> 
> enjoy :)

When Andrew walked through the doors of the precinct, that last thing he expected to see was another guy sitting at his desk. His head was a rough auburn brown, ducked low so Andrew couldn’t make out the rest of his face, he had a grey hoodie that was hiked up his neck. Annoyance laced throughout Andrew as he glanced around the rest of the room. Everyone else was going about their day, not seeming to give a single shit about the stranger who had taken over his spot. 

So instead, he walked up to his desk. Kept his arms crossed and narrowed his eyes at hoodie man, “Who the fuck are you.” He spits out before the guy even noticed him walking towards him - or hoodie man pretended to not notice him anyway. As if Andrew wouldn't notice the quick twitch of the other's gaze.

To piss off Andrew more apparently, the man popped his head up in fake surprise, “Oh! Hey.” His eyes were a gentle hazel, a dark enough that it clashed with his hair. “You must be Officer Andrew Minyard.” He reached a hand out and offered him it, Andrew ignored it.

“I asked you a question.” 

The man raised an eyebrow at him, before lowering his hand. “Neil Josten," he started slowly. "I’m your civilian consultant for now. I was appointed to you because of your focus on organized crime and the involvement of adolescences within the criminal world!” 

His fake cheer set Andrew’s teeth on edge, or the fact that someone had clearly told his whole ass career out to someone that was a complete stranger.

“Get off of my desk.” He snaps and the guy -Neil- stares at him for a moment longer before spinning his chair around so Andrew gets an eye-full of gray hoodie and moving to his feet. Andrew doesn’t even both to reclaim the seat, instead he just pushes the chair away and stands behind his work space. Quickly starting to examining the top contents of it, before moving to the drawers. Skimming his fingers across files, not letting himself linger or anything too long so _Neil_ can't judge their importance. 

Neil apparently finds this amusing, because he snorts beside him, “I didn’t steal anything.” 

“Something a thief would say.” Andrew points out blandly, but his argument falls flat when he gets to the last drawer and finds everything still in place. _Frustrating_ , he glances back to Neil who is standing casually with his arms crossed and watching Andrew. “Just so you know, I don’t like people going through my things.” 

“Who said I went through your things?” For a moment, it looks like Neil is even slightly offended at the accusation. 

Andrew thrums his fingers on the desk for a moment longer, the frustration in his gut is growing quicker by the minute. His eyes sweep across to his co-workers and finds Matt and Dan standing still watching them. Obvious concern in their eyes and Andrew is fairly sure it is not for him. 

“Who the fuck is this.” He repeats again, jabbing his finger at his new ‘friend’. 

“I literally just told you.” His ‘friend’ mutters next to him as Dan is already opening her mouth to speak. Making quick steps towards the two. 

_Here comes captain._

“He’s your new partner, Renee is getting transferred to be with me, and Neil is our new civilian consultant. He fits best with you.” She says and oh did Andrew want to start throwing knives the moment 'Renee' and 'transferred' left Dan’s mouth in the same sentence. 

“See, exactly as I just told you.” Annoying consultant says. 

“I don’t need a new partner.” He demands, because he doesn’t, and he also doesn't think he can refrain from killing them if they aren’t Renee. 

“Shitty, take it up with Wymack.” Dan finishes before reaching a hand out to grab Neil’s shoulder. Andrew doesn’t miss the twitch in the his hand. 

_Interesting._

“Andrew is a dick, so if you need to be put with someone else, tell us. I’m sure Matt wouldn’t mind a new partner.” She tells him and Andrew doesn’t bother to even pretend he is offended by the comment. If anything he hopes the newbie decides to tuck his tail and run. Give Andrew some alone time on the field if he can't work with Renee, let him focus on the important things.

But of course, he is not a lucky man and his hopes and dreams never do come true.

“No, I’ll be fine.” Neil, of course, says, flashing a blinding grin. One so fake that when Dan doesn’t see through it, he fears for the city’s safety at the hands of these people. "I'm sure we'll get along just dandy."

 _Oh fuck this._

Andrew is in motion, shoving past Dan and Neil before they have the chance to say anything; making his way across the floor and dodging people with ease. His eyes locking onto the Chief's office, catching a glimpse of the offender through the window. His frustration only grows when he glances behind himself and somehow Neil is already at his heels, moving with the same careful ease.

When Neil catches his eyes, he grins and Andrew has to look away before he does something stupid. 

Like punch the fucker directly in the jaw.

His hands are twitching for a cigarette already when he shoves into Wymack’s office. 

“Who the fuck is this and where did my actual partner go.” He snaps before the larger man has time to blink.

But he also doesn’t look surprised at Andrew’s words and entrance, he merrily glances up from the folders he is sorting through his desk to sigh. Watching Neil slide in alongside the officer who was a moment away from snapped, with a stupid fucking smile on his face.

“I’m starting to think you are deaf.” Neil says, giving Andrew a concerned glance over, “It didn’t state on your file that you had hearing problems.”

Clutching his fist at his sides, he wishes he wasn't banned from wearing his knives in the precinct. 

Neil’s eyes widened suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him, tapping his skull. “Oh shit, do you have memory problems? Like the short term type. I could’ve sworn I watched a movie about that-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up I will stab you and then gut you.” 

Neil doesn’t seem phased by the suddenly hot anger that hisses out of Andrew, he simply cocks his head to the side, “But you’re a police officer? Wouldn’t you rather shoot me?”

“How about I do all fuc-”

“Minyard! For fuck’s sake, stop threatening your new partner and start acting like a goddamn cop.” Wymack yells from the other side of his office, throwing the remaining folders onto the desk and stalking over to him. “That is Neil Josten. He is your new partner. You should be fucking grateful his is agreeing to work with you because he is here on his own free will. He also has a fairly large knowledge on gangs and organized crime - which if I remember correctly is what you requested to be put on when I first hired you.” 

Andrew scoffs, “He isn’t even a cop.” 

“Doesn’t need to be, it’s called a civilian consultant for a reason, wise ass.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

Wymack eyes him for another moment, before placing his hands on the back of his desk. “This isn’t permanent, Minyard, it just worked out with the timing and I think you two could maybe make some progress on some fairly cold trails. So stop fucking bickering and get to work.” 

When neither made a move to leave, Wymack flicked his hands aggressively towards the door, “What are you two waiting for? Fucking get out of my office.” 

Neil moved first, and Andrew, begrudgingly followed. Making his displeasure clear as he slammed the door as hard as he could. Enjoying the curse Wymack let out. 

When Andrew keeps walking past his desk and towards that back exit, Neil doesn’t hesitate to follow. His steps falling in line alongside his own and Andrew shifts his gaze back to him. He was only a few inches taller than him, lanky but moved with an eerie calm and silence that made Andrew keep his eyes on him. But the breaking point of his suspicions was when he glanced back up to other's eyes. If he focused, ever so slightly, on his eyes, he could clearly make out the ring around his iris's. 

Contacts. 

Andrew pressed his lips into a thin line when one word floated to the surface of his mind. 

_Threat._

It was an old feeling, something he had grown the ability to do fairly quickly, given his childhood. So he never doubted the itch in the back of his mind when he met someone and something didn’t feel right, something off about their being or existence. Everyone had layers, different parts of themselves that they show at different times. But some people’s layers ran a lot deeper and darker than most should. Those people were the dangerous ones. 

Andrew would know, he was one of them. 

Still, he had to figure out what type of 'threat' Neil Josten was.

Andrew shoved the back door open and made his way into the alley. Neil follows him and mirrors him by pressing his back against the wall, watching as Andrew shakes out a cigarette and lights it up. Who pressed it to his lips, taking a deep drag before meeting the other’s eyes. 

“I don’t like you.” He says finally and Neil's shoulders sag slightly as he rolls his eyes.

“Gee thanks, you’ve given me a whole-” He pauses and and his eyes flick down to the watch on his arms. Andrew notes it looks expensive, “-ten minutes of meeting me to decide your opinion of me.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything in return, flicking off some ash from the burning bud. Neil’s eyes are trained on the smoke as it curls in the air and dissipates, his finger tapping against his thigh. A nervous habit, Andrew notes.

“Can I have one?” Neil asks suddenly and when Andrew shoots him a questioning look, the latter motions to the cigarette in his hand. 

“I just told you I didn’t like you and you think I’m going to give you a free cigarette?” 

Another annoyed sigh, “What do you want for it, a dollar? Five?"

Andrew gives him a blank stare, “How about, you tell me why you’re wearing contacts?” he asks. Taking another drag and watching the slight pause in the tapping finger out of the corner of his vision. Neil narrows his eyes at Andrew like he’s stupid, before speaking again.

“To see?” He shakes his head, “Didn’t realize it was illegal to wear contacts, my bad.”

_Liar._

Andrew hums, “Never said it was.” 

A few moments pass like that, with Neil pressed against the wall staring at Andrew in confusion and annoyance and Andrew smoking silently beside him. Ignoring the other as best he can even when it felt like the man was practically breathing down his neck. 

Andrew also notes that thought with the fact that Neil is standing a good distance away from him. 

_This might be a problem._

“Not going to give me the cigarette?” Neil says, sounding like he already knows the answer.

“Nope.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you lied.” Andrew finishes and throws the bud to the ground, grinding it out with his heel. Neil hasn’t moved, his face barely even twitching at the accusation but he doesn’t deny it. Part of Andrew is annoyed with the fact but also slightly impressed, at least he knows when he’s been caught. So, Andrew starts speaking again, “Why did Wymack hire you?” 

“He didn’t.” Neil says, opening up the back door and slipping inside, Andrew follows. “I’m here on my own free will. Thought maybe I could make a difference.” 

_Liar, Liar, Liar._

Andrew ignores the slight dip in his words, “That’s not what I’m asking.” He starts, “Where did you get information about organized crime and gangs? You don’t look like a gangster.”

_People like you usually make the worst criminals._

There’s a hollow laugh that leaves Neil’s lips, “No I guess not.” He mutters, but not before shoving past Andrew and stealing his chair. Andrew lets him so he can stand over the man when asking questions, using the newfound height to his advantage. Neil looks up and quirks his lip, “My mom and her boyfriend were into some bad shit when I was growing up. Saw a lot of it first hand.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Neil flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture but Andrew doesn’t miss the tension in his frame, or the way his eyes keep skidding around the room. He was acting like it wasn’t a big deal but even Andrew could see the demons lurking behind those brown eyes. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the full truth.

Andrew sighs, leaning against his desk slowly, “What type of bad shit?” 

Again, Neil’s eyes flicked back to Andrew. His lips pressed into a weak frown, the colour rapidly falling from his face which only answered one of the questions that had been brimming on his mind.

Neil Josten was also wearing makeup.

The cover up was obvious now in the white lights of the precinct and with Andrew solely focusing on his face and not the brown contacts. He wants to ask, demand why Neil is hiding behind something that could be considered a mask. But the heavy weight of his armbands leave the words stuck in his throat. 

Andrew could understand covering up scars. 

That might be the only reason he doesn't bring it up, that or he doesn't need someone taking it the wrong way.

During this time, Neil still hadn’t answered. His eyes were downcasted as he fiddled his thumbs, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Andrew leaves him alone for a bit, giving him time to collect his thoughts. But eventually Neil closes his mouth and doesn't open it again, giving Andrew a shrug. 

"What type of bad shit?" Andrew repeats, and he does not like having to repeat himself. 

Neil sighed, “Can you trust me when I just say it was bad? For now?” 

His eyes are dark, the first real crack in his mask since they met this morning. 

“If you tell me what happened to them.” Andrew offered, instead. 

Neil nodded, taking that gratefully, “Gang feud. They got killed by the rival gang. In Chicago, you see, so the police took me in and I’ve been sorta working with them ever since.” 

“You’re from Chicago?”

“Yeah, born and raised.” 

Andrew reached behind him, flicking a few papers away before he found what he was looking for. He pulled a folder from his desk and passed it to Neil, “Alright then, show me what you got. This case is from a week ago. _The Red Luxury_ got hit but there was only one body found, even though the basement showed signs of being lived in by a large sum of people. We are guessing younger because of some of the items left behind. We can't find them, even if there is signs of multiple people in a struggle. So we’re guessing higher organized crime because something more gang related wouldn’t have bothered with the bodies.” 

Neil reached out and took the file without question, flipping it open. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the pages, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as he focused. 

“Mm, how high is gang activity here?” Neil asked and Andrew refrained from rolling his eyes. 

“What? You didn’t do any research before showing up here?” 

“I wasn’t expecting the switch.” Neil shot back, “I’m just saying it looks like more of a revenge plot than anything. Kill the leader’s crew and leave the body as humiliation?” 

“Or warning.” Andrew added, “That was a possible theory I was working on.” 

He reached back out to take the papers from Neil but stopped when the man suddenly froze. His eyes widening slightly at the page before him, and hesitated, “What’s this?”

He turned the page that had a photo of the writing he had found on the roof in hand. Andrew raised his eyebrow at him before taking it instead. 

“You speak German?” 

Neil frowned before shaking his head, turning the file around and pointing at the translation in English. The ‘ _I’m sorry’_ still brought Andrew pause every time he saw it. A professional wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave something like that behind. Unless it was a signature of sorts. 

“I’m thinking this was personal on some level.” Neil says finally when Andrew stays silent, “Gang related maybe. Maybe the woman had done something in the past, could be an ex lover?” 

Taking the folder, Andrew let his eyes skim the work. Neat arches of blood splattering the wall; clearly whoever had done it, knew what they were doing. Even the woman’s death, Sheila Jackson, was executed neatly. 

It didn’t help that Sheila Jackson was rumoured to have been a drug lord using children to be her drug mules and her dogs. They could never find enough evidence to pin her on it, turns out if had been under their noses the entire time. Andrew bit back a curse of all the kids they could have saved if they could have just gotten a fucking search warrant. He wished, sometimes, at night that he just got his knives and killed her himself. He might even shake the hand of the person who had gotten to her first.

“It’s a possibility.” He mutters, “But it has to be someone who can use knives, and more than one person. No way one person could have done all of this and get away.” 

Neil is silent, but he nods his head in agreement.

Andrew eyes him for a few moments - he didn't trust Neil. Not yet, but, the man was pulling a piece of paper away from Andrew's desk. Ducking his head he started writing out the theories and pinning them to evidence. He sighed:

This was a bad idea.

* * *

Neil Josten was a tragedy. 

Nathaniel wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t enjoy staring at the wall for hours while he laid in bed, making up a life that wasn’t his own. A life that for a few hours he could pretend he actually had, a dream that he would never get.

But something about Neil Josten hit too close to home. His father’s instructions - or the Moriyama’s to be more exact, were clear. But it was the first time Nathaniel wanted to deny them. He wasn’t a man who could scare easily, not with his past and upbringing; but the aspect of having to tell someone something that felt so close to the truth made his skin crawl.

It made sense, he had to get to the people who would have the most information about the Families and gangs that were of highest priority. He had to make himself appear worthy enough to be accepted into the ranks. That part was easy with the amount of corrupt officials over in Chicago, to make Neil Josten real, make him someone who was credible, someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who could slip under the rules and get what he needed. And hopefully, get the fuck out.

That morning, Allison sat him down. They hadn’t spoken much since their fight, but they were slowly relaxing back into their normal routine. Well as normal as two people who were under the Mafia’s careful eye could. But still, she motioned to the chair and he sat down without a word. 

He spotted the brown eye contacts and let her start lathering on the foundation to his face and cover up over his scars. One cut directly through his eyebrow which made it difficult to hide, but the others that marred his skin from an unlucky run in with a pissed off Lola were easier to hide. 

“Are we not dying the hair?” He asks and Allison meets his eyes in the mirror, she gives him a weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. He almost winces at the dark circles lining them, knowing that they are partially his fault. 

“Got a call earlier today, we’re supposed to keep as much of your natural look as possible.” Her words are slow and Nathaniel feels his heart sink. 

“Fuck.” 

In any other case, Allison probably would’ve laughed and say that she told him so. Make him pay up some money on a bet he didn’t remember placing. But now all that covers her face is a somber expression as she places the powder over the crude marks that slash across his features. They both know what it means, and they both don’t want to think about it.

His father wanted him to look just like him, so everyone knew he was his son. 

So everyone knew that it was the Butcher’s own blood that would be taking over the title. That he had bred a monster just as bad, if not worse, than himself.

“I’m sorry Allison.” He says finally, because it has been pulling him down the entire week. “For snapping at you.”

“Don’t.” She says swiftly, shaking her head and throwing the brush onto the counter, “I pushed where I shouldn’t have.” 

“That’s not an excus-”

“-Nate, for once in your life don’t be hard on yourself.” She interrupts, her voice still quiet but sharper now. “Just let it go, because I have. What I’m more worried about is what all this shit with your father means and how we’re supposed to get out of it.” 

_We._

Nathaniel looks down. He promised he’d get Allison out of this, and he intends to do just that. He knows what it will cost him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The only issue was trying to do it without her figuring it out before him. 

So instead, he says, “Okay.” Before shrugging on the new mask of Neil Josten. 

-

The moment he met Andrew Minyard, he knew he was going to have a problem. The man was colder than ice but was still burning from the outside out. He was quick, and he could read every small misstep Nathaniel took. Usually, with his other missions, he was always given some breathing room when he was sent out like this, but Andrew had started ripping apart his act the moment he laid eyes on him. Even to the point of figuring out about his contacts without Nathaniel even having a suspicion of it.

Now he got what his father meant about this being a ‘final’ test. 

Neil Josten was well liked by the others. Dan was the first to introduce him to the precinct, telling him over and over again how grateful she was that he had volunteered his help. He met Matt, who was a large man with a personality of the sun. He quickly brought Nathaniel into a hug that he wasn’t prepared for and brought him to where the coffee was. Seth was an asshole, but Nathaniel deemed not to comment on it. It seemed Renee had raised the most flags out of everyone in the precinct, her smile was too gentle for the darkness in her gaze. Other monsters recognized each other, but she didn't bat an eyelash, maybe it was mutual understanding. Or maybe she didn't care - but Nathaniel figured she would be his biggest threat.

Well, until Andrew had arrived. 

Nathaniel knew his type well - or thought he did. Just some kid who grew up in unpleasant conditions, thought that made them some kind of hardass, and tried intimating everyone they came into contact with. 

It made him want to roll his eyes. Pathetic really. 

But then, Andrew just kept… surprising him. 

It was winding down to the end of their first week working together, and after three entire days with the motherfucker; Nathaniel was _not_ in the mood when Andrew had finally slammed his pencil down on the desk and stared at him as if bored. Well, to be fair, Andrew _always_ stared at him as if he was bored unless he was really pissed off (i.e, their first meeting). So Nathaniel did what he did best and slapped picked up his newly dawned mask of Neil Josten putting it into place and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” 

Andrew blinked slowly, leaning back against his chair and contemplated Neil for a moment. He tried not to squirm under the gaze, biting the inside of his cheek as Andrew took his time deciding if he was going to respond. 

“I’m bored.” He says finally, with enough drawl it made Neil barely resists grabbing his lukewarm coffee and pouring it over the blonde’s head. 

With a practiced patience that could only come from being raised by a psycho father, he calmly responded with, “Go for a fucking walk then.”

Andrew, again answered with a slow close of his eyes, Neil’s finger twitched towards the mug that was in tempting distance. He had too much shit to deal with tonight to be wasting his last few moments of breathing room with someone who made him _miss_ working full time in the mob. 

“No, I’m bored of this.” Andrew says finally, motioning between the two of them, seated on opposite sides of his desk. “It needs to change.” 

Neil blinked at him, confused but finally just shrugged. “I don’t really care, do what you need to.” He flicked his hand dismissively and looked back down to the case file laying in his lap. Man, he thought being a cop was more interesting than this. The good guys were boring.

“Come with me somewhere tonight then.” 

Neil’s bitter thoughts came to a screeching halt as he snapped his head back up to stare in open shock at Andrew. Who still looked like he could give less of a fuck, but had now acquired a pen and was spinning it idly in his hands. 

“What.” 

That earned him a sigh, a purposely drawn out sigh, to remind Neil _just_ how annoying and insufferable he was for existing. He frowned at that and threw his case file back onto the cop’s desk. 

“Yes or no, it really isn’t that hard.” Andrew clarified, raising his two fingers for example.

Neil hesitated, because either way this was a horrible idea. Not just because Andrew was horrifically frustrating to be around and he definitely had ulterior motives to this, not just a friendly chat between co-workers. But because _Nathaniel_ was a busy man tonight, he wasn’t going home to spend the rest of his night off like Neil was supposed too. No, what Nathaniel had to do was feed thirteen children he had kidnapped to avoid killing them, make sure no one had killed any of the thirteen children yet. Make sure his dad didn’t find out about the fact he had kidnapped thirteen kids, that he was supposed to kill under his order two weeks ago. Then he had to go to night training with Lola, not let her kill him while his dear daddy wasn't looking. And then after that, he had to make sure Allison wasn’t actually sleeping with the head of one of his Father’s competition in the drug trade. 

But because the world hated him, Neil shrugged, “Yea sure, whatever.” 


	3. My Strange Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard has questions and he wants answers, but it turns out his new partner is not what he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CHANGED THE TITLE OF THIS STORY - SIX SHOOTER WAS MORE A FILLER AND I DECIDED TO BITE THE BULLET AND CHANGE IT TO WHAT I WANTED ORIGINALLY!
> 
> warnings; murder, murder scene, bodies (bodies are gross), vomiting and brief mentions of child abuse
> 
> chapter song title; my strange addiction by billie eilish
> 
> this chapter is supposed? to be light hearted in the crime scene, but that's hard with dead bodies around (also one month time skip up coming during the chapter!)

Andrew stared blankly at the entrance to the bar. In his defence he needed this, needed to figure out who he was supposed to be working with for however long he was forced to work with them. Something about him wasn’t right, like an image that was slightly blurry but not enough for it to be completely off putting. Like that one person, who smiles too often to actually be that happy. He was like those empty promises that were impossible to keep but people kept making them anyways. 

A lie. 

Something about his partner was a lie. 

Something was wrong enough, that he was wearing his bands, that carry knives, tonight.

And Andrew intended to figure out what it was. 

So he invited him… to a bar. That was fine, he needed witnesses in case something happened. He was being forced to play by the rules for now. His job was to enforce them instead of break them.

He popped open his door and stood, squeezing his fist tightly and willed the rest of his anxiety out of him. He shouldn’t have anxiety over something as minor as this- it was Nicky’s fault, that was the issue. Nicky was still as much of a heathen as ever.

_“A new partner!” Nicky squealed from the otherside of the Skype call, “Oh my god, Erik! Andrew has a new partner and it’s a boy and his age!”_

_“That’s great, Andrew!” Came Erik’s thickly accented voice from off screen and Andrew resisted rolling his eyes outwardly. Nicky looked back to him and beamed._

_“He’s a pain in my ass. There is nothing great about it.” He said coldly but his cousin didn’t seem to care._

_Judging by the smirk that was settling on his lips, Andrew wasn’t going to enjoy whatever Nicky said next, “Everyone is a pain in your ass, that changes nothing. Is he at least a cute pain in the ass?”_

_Yep, he was right._

_He sighed, “No not really Nicky.”_

_Silence, utter silence from Nicky’s end which brought pause to him. He glanced up to make sure the call didn’t disconnect but instead was met with his cousin’s shocked face._

_“What.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, already dreading the answer._

_“Did... did you just hesitate?” Nicky whispered, leaning in closer, “Did you hesitate and then say_ not really _? Holy fucking shit Andrew you are in love!”_

_Nicky’s voice was back full swing and Andrew blanked, because he didn’t hesitate? Did he? Neil was fine looking whatever, he’d seen plenty of guys who were fine looking in his life. He didn’t actually think Neil was anything more than a problem that needed solving-_

_“You have to ask him out! You have to, oh my god this is a love story, Andrew!” He screeched, throwing his arms around Erik as the lumbering blonde walked over to his husband. “Baby, Andrew finally found love! He_ likes _him!”_

_Andrew scowled as deeply as he could, “Fuck off Nicky I don’t. I don’t do ‘boyfriends’, and I definitely prefer to avoid work hookups, thanks.”_

_Nicky either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, because he still went on. “Ask him out! Come on! Just to dinn-”_

_Andrew ended the call._

So of course, he was mildly uncomfortable now. Because this wasn’t a date, this was an interrogation without an entire police force surrounding them. It was a move, on Andrew’s part, to keep that old instinct of needing to know if someone was a threat or not, in check.

But he still pauses when a bright pink convertible pulls up to the sidewalk when Andrew is crossing it. Probably because the thing he expects when he looks up to shoot the driver a glare is _not_ his new partner, Neil Josten. Who was sat in the passenger seat with his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth as a blonde haired girl beside him was laughing; shoving him harshly while talking a mile a minute. But she glances up for a moment and she notices Andrew. Andrew gets a poor feeling in his gut when the woman’s face lights up - her hand outstretching for a moment and now she begins to start honking her horn aggressively, pushing her full body weight into it before sending a hand up and waving over the steering window.

Andrew raises an eyebrow and offers nothing else, apparently this is funny to her too, because she dissolves into another puddle of hysterical laughter. He can almost hear it through the car doors and the pounding of the music inside.

“Sorry, she can be a pain.” Neil’s voice says next to him and Andrew just barely manages to hide the flinch that wracks his body. Because he hadn’t noticed Neil leave the car when he had been looking directly at it. 

A lie. A lie. A lie.

“Her car is horrific.” He says instead, glancing over to take his new partner in. Surprised to find his face flushed a deep red. In another horrific moment, he also realizes his partner has freckles that lightly dust across his nose. His curly dark red hair that borders the fine line of brown, is still shaggy and hangs at random spots of his face. His eyes seem greener tonight, Andrew decides that he’s guessing what colour lies beneath it all. It seemed Neil had even dressed for occasion, wearing a button up black shirt, and dark grey slacks.

Andrew swallows stiffly, and the quick spark of interest he can’t help returns for a moment before it is killed by something darker. Something that was sending off the alarm system in his mind that he had created for this very reason.

Even standing on the sidewalk of the club, Andrew can already see the eyes lingering on Neil as people move past. Subtle shoves to their friends, smirks, tracking views that only see the appeal. Not a potential threat. 

Charming smile, his co-workers already grabbing his shoulders and laughing when he makes a deadpanned joke. Matt comes by every morning now and they talk easily, it comes so easy to Neil, his body loose, his eyes alight, his hands moving about and gestures to further his points. 

He drags them in, and he disarms them slowly and carefully. 

Dan calls him sweet. Says he should look into becoming an actual officer because he has potential. Wymack has already deemed him another misfit. Seth still throws insults at him from across the room, but his eyes are amused when Neil throws them back just as hard. 

Even Renee, Andrew grits his teeth, Renee looked at Neil for only a moment, and she nods. She is kind, sweet, and she tells Andrew to be calm.

_“What do you think of Neil?” She asks on Neil’s third day of working with them, “He seems to be good help so far.”_

_Andrew has trusted few people in his life, but Renee is one of them. Their backgrounds similar, hers just simply more buried than Andrew’s own, no one can dig in court cases and bring out facts of why she’s is unfit to be an officer. Renee had finally told him about who she was, how she ended up here, with blood on her hands and a different name behind her._

_Somehow he trusts her._

_But now, it seems she has somehow been disarmed by charming hazel eyes and a quick tongue._

_“There is something off about him.” Andrew said shortly, “I do not trust him.”_

_“I think you should give him a chance.” She said softly but he was angry, because how couldn’t she see how fake he was - how each smile never reached his eyes, how it was too sharp. How he walked without a sound and was behind you in moments when you thought you were completely alone, how he somehow knew how to perfectly converse with you, without even knowing you._

_Andrew gritted his teeth, “No, he is dangerous.”_

_Renee hummed in acknowledgement, but instead of agreeing she says something else. “I never said he wasn’t dangerous, I was merely stating that I don’t think he is dangerous for us.”_

_Andrew said nothing else, and neither did Renee. So when he went to sit at his desk, and Neil’s eyes met his for a moment, he decided that he would be the judge of that._

_-_

“Andrew?” Neil’s averse voice broke through his brief thoughts. With a jolt he gathered himself back to reality, quickly snapping his gaze to the line of the bar; nearly sighing out loud with relief when he saw it had barely moved. 

“What?” He asks, knowing he hadn’t lost too much time. Neil narrowed his eyes at the blond, before shaking his head and waves his hand as if to say _nevermind._

“I was just gonna say that you should try telling her that.” He huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “First time I did she tried to hit me with it, said she would paint it a new colour with my blood.” 

“Lovely lady.” 

With that, Andrew nods towards the building, enjoying the slightly surprised look on Neil’s when they are ushered through without hesitation. Both moving with ease against the crowd of people as they ducked into the bar. Andrew can’t help but feel the slight icing feeling crawling up this back when Neil trails behind him.

Andrew navigates fairly easily, trying to find somewhere semi-private, it isn’t Eden by a long shot. But Andrew had come here enough to know the layout fairly easily. He finds a large vacant spot at the bar and slides into one of the stools without another word. 

Neil sits, his shoulders are strung up with tension and his eyes have scanned the place three times already. Andrew almost wants to laugh;

“You are a very tense person.” He says instead, “You’re going to give me a headache just looking at you.” 

Neil barely offers him a slight glance at his words, and Andrew knows his tone is not kind. 

“Get something to drink, relax a little.” He reaches for the menu and pulls it open. Pretending not to see the slight tap of Neil’s finger on his thigh - _someone’s nervous._

“Thanks, but I don’t drink.” 

Andrew is hardly surprised by this answer, but he lets himself raise an eyebrow at the auburn haired man next to him, “Oh?” 

Neil shrugs, the tension loosening out of his body, but Andrew would put money on the fact it's forced. _Liar, liar, liar._

“I guess it has never been my thing, stuff doesn’t taste that good and I don’t like feeling drunk so like what’s the point?” 

A fair point - for normal people. 

“Fun?” Andrew offers, and Neil rolls his eyes at him. 

“Yes because doing stupid things and then spending the next day vomiting and in pain is just so great.” He scoffs, “It’s pointless.” 

Andrew hates people like this, he thinks absently. “Ah, ah, you usually spend most of the night vomiting, so if you do it right, you don’t remember. Besides, only amateurs get hungover.”

“Mm, sounds like you just have an unhealthy coping mechanism.” Neil shoots back, zero hesitation and it is only then that Andrew realizes he’s managed to get under Neil’s skin slightly. But to be fair, he’s been doing that since he started his shift today.

“Says the rabbit. Chill out with looking for fucking doors, they all work the same.”

That earns him a sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“Stop figuring out where all the exits are. You’re fine.” Andrew repeats, “Unless there is something I should know? Do you have people after you?”

Neil turns around quickly and locks his eyes with Andrew. He sees it then, a quick flicker behind those brown eyes. His breath catches, and that doesn’t happen often, never, actually, it happens never. But suddenly the rabbit that had been hiding behind those contacts was gone and something else had taken its place. 

Something that had Andrew’s years of instincts, flick his fingers towards the knives pressing against his skin.

_Interesting._

“Wow, and here I thought you actually wanted to be friends.” Neil says it lightheartedly, but the threat reads still. Even if he doesn’t mean for it to. “You just wanted to interrogate me without your coworkers around.” 

Andrew lets a cold smile he hasn’t felt in a very long time, slide across his lips. “Quick aren’t you?” 

The bartender appears before them, Neil orders a water - surprise, surprise - Andrew gets some cheap whisky. While waiting, Neil is completely still next to him. It’s odd enough that it makes Andrew glance over a few times to make sure the man is even still there. From the past the week of having to sit across a desk from him, Andrew was well aware how much Neil usually moved. Never comfortable, always fidgeting, especially when Andrew started vaulting questions his way. Something tonight was different though, tonight it looks like Neil had also finally put Andrew into a little box labeled _threat_ too.

About fucking time.

“So was that your girlfriend in the car?” Andrew asks instead, and it is clearly not what Neil expected, judging by the choked weaze that slips past his lips. 

“Oh fuck no.” He says, “She’s like a sister? My closest friend? I guess.” 

Ah a truth, that’s nice. 

“Well _do_ you have a girlfriend?” 

_People who are attached to you, people that make you real._

Neil makes a weird noise again and shakes his head, “This is not the questioning I thought you meant.” 

Andrew gives him a halfhearted shrug, “I know.” 

_We’re getting there._

He’s shoulders loosen, but he isn’t falling for it. Ever since he asked Neil to come here tonight, the man has been on guard. Even when the bartender comes back with their drinks, Neil doesn’t drink his, he doesn’t even touch the glass. Instead picking to focus on Andrew, cocking his head slightly to the side when he says. 

“No, I don’t. I’m not really interested in all that to be honest.”

_Oh?_

“Oh? Relationships? Or girls?” 

Neil snorts at that too and shakes his head, “Relationships. Man you’re starting to sound like Allison.” At the eyebrow twitch from Andrew he says, “Pink car girl.” 

“Mmm.”

“What about you? You have anyone at home to be pissy with once you’re done with me?” Neil asks and Andrew halts for a moment, already feeling the need to snap back in his bored tone. To fall back into the fragile normal they had built in the past week but Andrew knows this trick - he can see Neil trying desperately to pull their words into familiar territory. 

Andrew decides to go for the throat instead.

“Is your real name actually Neil Josten?”

A breath, a pause, the fainting tapping of a finger on denim and then, “No.” 

Andrew blinks in surprise, not because of the fact it wasn’t his real name, he was already pretty sure of that. But the fact Neil didn’t actually try bullshit him first.

“Why are you with the police.” He asks this time, letting himself stare at the man. The rabbit is peaking its head out again; the nervous tapping of one of his fingers speeding up ever so slightly. “And don’t try to lie to me.” Andrew decides to add under his breath when the silence stretches too long. “I am not a fan of liars, and that is the only word I am sure of when it comes to you right now.”

As if Neil can read the threat, his eyes move to the black armbands around Andrew’s arms. The tapping stops, as does Andrew’s breath because Neil had known about the knives somehow. Andrew had no idea how long, how long Neil had been perfectly aware of this. Even still Neil’s eyes are calm as ever when he turns back to look at Andrew, placing his head on his hands that rest on the bar.

“I was forced too.” He says, but then he shakes his head slightly, “But I want to help people, in whatever way I can.” 

Andrew waits, and feels something settle in his stomach when he realizes he believes him. He believes the fake brown eyes that shift back to scan the room again. 

Andrew doesn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he passed, “Why? Why do you care?”

This brings a longer silence than the ones before, Neil shifting in his chair for a moment before he sighs, reaching up and lightly running a hand through his shaggy hair. Reshuffling the mess again, maybe in a movement of self soothing- Andrew isn’t sure. 

Biting his lip, Neil speaks, “Because I’m a bad person who… who doesn’t want to be one, I guess.” 

The words spark something in Andrew’s gut. They sound too familiar to the ones he said to his family when he finally told him he was going to pursue law enforcement. Remembers the disbelieving looks of everyone around him, the whispers that somehow still followed him on campus, each story, each rumour growing worse;

_“Why would a monster want to be that?” “No, he’s doing it so he can legally kill people now. You know about those people right?”_

A bitter laugh beside him brings his attention back and Neil sends him a look. One not of pity but of twisted understanding. 

“You too huh?”

Andrew shoots him a glare to shut him up but Neil just returns it with a raised eyebrow, throwing his arms out in a ‘ _whatever’_ movement. There is nothing in his eyes, just a blank darkness that Andrew knows painfully well every time he looks into a mirror.

He grabs his whisky and takes a heavy shot - _fuck_ he hadn’t planned on what to do if he understood Neil.

Refusing to let the other man know he’s pulled a one up on him, he let his annoyance leak into his words, “We’re not all perfect, Josten.”

“Ah, so I’ve been told.”

The music is increasing now, voices of others rattling off of the walls causing a shiver to dance up his spin. An invisible ghost and a familiar itch making him shift slightly closer to Neil. An old sense of curiosity tugging him towards the conundrum as he mulls his next question in mind - knowing where he’s going to hit once he says it.

“You worked with your mother and her boyfriend, didn’t you?”

This time Neil’s entire body flinches, the water splashing in the cup and spilling slightly onto the table. But Neil doesn’t seem to notice it soaking into his shirt, more focused on pulling himself back, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath before saying, “What tipped you off?”

Andrew rolls his eyes, deciding to raise his hand and start counting them out to Neil. “The scars, which you suck at hiding by the way _(one)._ Not talking about what happened with your parents at all _(two)_ , and now saying you were forced to work with the police _(three)_. I’m guessing it’s some deal you made with your local precinct or the FBI. But that is depending on how bad your family was.” 

“Right.” Neil mutters, looking away from Andrew’s hand. “Well, fuck me for trying not to broadcast it to the world.”

“I could care less where you came from or who you used to be, or whatever your fucking sob story is.” Andrew says evenly, “What I need to know is if you’re someone who’s going to stab me in the back the moment I turn around.” Because that had happened too many times, and Andrew wasn’t sure if he was prepared for another one. “I need a partner, a fucking human being. Not some wind up doll, that does whatever everyone wants.”

Neil gives him an odd look at that, his lip tugging upwards but Andrew has a feeling it wasn’t a smile of appreciation - but maybe one of bitterness. But still, it vanishes as quickly as it came. 

Neil still gives him a response, the mask is thiner this time at least, “I won’t let anyone stab you in the back, alright? Or shoot you, you know, cause you’re a cop.” He grins, as if he made a joke and Andrew lets himself hate him a little bit more for that.

He decides his last question now. 

“Who are you running from?” Andrew asks this time and feels the sharp inhale of Neil’s breath next to him. He’s silent for a few moments again, Andrew allows it, their gazes meeting and this time Neil holds him down, his body still. Rabbit and something more dangerous mixing together as one. 

“Honestly?” He starts. 

Andrew scoffs, “Well that’s kinda the fucking point of it, Josten. 

“Myself.” 

That draws a blank on Andrew, but there is no way he’s lying because it’s the easiest thing that’s fallen from Neil’s lips yet. 

He had thought he was the only one sometimes. 

Maybe, he thinks for a moment, eyeing the man next to him, maybe Renee could have been right. People didn’t trust Andrew, always gave him weird looks or refused to work with him because of his own past. Neil’s jagged shadows were more recent, still clinging onto his form as he tries to melt into the ways of average society filled with average people who live average lives and experience average horrors. 

He flicks his empty glass in anger. 

_He’s just like me._

“Alright, fine. I’m done now.” Andrew nods to Neil, “You can ask one question and that’s it.”

The face Neil makes is almost funny, his jaw dropping slightly open and his irritation is clear. “I just answered like five! That isn’t fair, why do I only get one?” He even almost sounds actally offended, and Andrew gives him an annoyed look.

“It isn’t my fault you act so fucking shady.” 

A huff, but Neil takes it in stride. His eyes landing one more time on the armbands before motioning to them. “You have knives in there, I’ve seen them before. Why?”

Fair enough question, Andrew thinks, at least it’s common knowledge now that they are both aware. He lifts his arm and fiddles with the end, because at first he wants to say it’s because of the scars - but no, that was only an added benefit. The knives mean something else entirely now. 

“I don’t like being caught off guard.” He decides on, Neil takes it without question. 

When Andrew leaves that night, he expects to feel like he’s lost. Because he was wrong, and maybe Neil isn’t as much of a threat as he thought, thought he’d be like all the rest. But when he glances down to his hands that quiver ever so silently in the night air; he feels like he’s won.

* * *

Nathaniel is fucking exhausted, because apparently living two full lives is really fucking difficult. 

Allison is annoying, hovering over his shoulder asking how ‘ _his date with Andrew went’._ She rolls her eyes at him when he says they were only clearing the air between them. 

_“Hate sex.” She purred, “Hot. I love it, you get it Nate.”_

He also had an underground child network now, and kids got bored and he only had so many men that were only his men and not his father’s. And apparently not too many mobsters are interested in babysitting. He has yet to find a way to solve this problem, but needs to soon or else he might just regret not killing the kids. 

(That is a _joke,_ he had already made the mistake of telling Charles it and had to quickly clear that up)

Work was better at the station. Andrew was, well, Andrew. But he spoke to him more, and they actually could somewhat work together. Though Nathaniel feared if one more case fell flat that Andrew was going to fire him himself out of blind rage. Sometimes he still wishes he took up that offer Dan made about partnering with Matt. 

But Nathaniel hated to admit he had some, begrudging respect for his partner. He meant what he said when he promised Andrew he’d watch his back, because he would. He just hopes the day when his father makes him kill one of the officers - Andrew is far, far away from it.

So of course, a month after his surprise interrogation, shit starts to hit the fan.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat in Andrew’s squad car. The sun is painfully bright as it shines through the side windows and windshield, Neil raises a hand, frowning and squinting his eyes before glancing over to Andrew. The light seemed to affect him less, with black shades covering his eyes, his blonde hair highlighted and glowing in the morning sun. He rests one hand on the top steering wheel as he guided them to a brutal murder scene.

“There are sunglasses in the door beside you.” He says evenly, not taking his eyes off the road. Sure enough, Neil pulls out a pair of identical sunglasses before shoving them onto his face. 

“We’re really going for the badass crime fighting duo now aren’t we?” Neil’s grin is shit eating, even more so when he notices the slight down turn of Andrew’s lips.

His grip tightened slightly on the wheel, “Why do I bother with you.” He grumbles, “Be nice they said, don’t be an asshole, they said, fuck them.” 

“Hey! I think what you did was very nice,” he dips his sunglasses down and angles his body towards Andrew. At the movement Andrew glanced over for a moment, and Neil grins- winking before pushing the glasses back up his nose. He notices a slight twist in the blond’s fingers. 

“I will crash this car, that is a promise.” 

“And bring yourself down while you’re at it? Poor choice.”

“Oh but so worth it if it saves me having to deal with you.”

Neil scoffs, kicking a foot up against the dashboard with a thump. “Not correct, we will be stuck together in the afterlife. What then asshole?” 

“I'll kill you again.” 

The words are sharp, but they aren’t meant as an actual threat. Neil, grins, they really are making progress. 

“If I look over and your feet are on the dashboard again, I will actually shoot you in the fucking head.” 

Ah, Neil thinks, that was an actual threat. With a prolonged sigh he drops his foot back to the floor, “Boring.” He grumbles. 

“Cry me a river.”

Once they reach the crime scene, Neil follows close behind Andrew’s broader form as he lifts the yellow tape and lets it snap back down on Neil as he follows suit. He flashes his badge, though it seems pointless because most people just let you through anyways if you walked with enough determination and wore something that made you look important.

Neil would know. He’s done it plenty of times before, hasn’t had an issue to this day. 

They enter a storage unit, all doors sealed tight except one. In this one is something a little less appealing. Wrinkling his nose, Neil lets the disgust wash over his face, the smell familiar in its heavy, pungent spread that is impossible to cover.

“I knew I should have brought those gas masks.” Neil says finally and Andrew glances over at him, raising one eyebrow over his glasses. 

The body lies in the middle of the storage unit, frozen in a point of horror. Arms outstretched towards nothing, clothes ripped and torn at different points. The unit looks set up to appear like a living room of someone's home, and it almost passes for one, except the wall behind it is painted in blood. Spelling out the words; _your fault._

“Minyard! Josten! Stop standing around gawking and get over here.” Wymack snaps from his position next to Dan, who was writing furiously on her notepad. 

“Fucking old man.” He hears Andrew grumble under his breath, and picks to walk over to Renee instead, who has dropped into a crouch outside the unit. “Why is it only us here today? Aren’t we the shitty precinct.”

Renee glances up and offers a warm smile that still gives an uneasy feeling in his gut. Neil wasn’t an idiot, the girl shares the same haunted look that both him and Andrew have. 

“Busy.” She says, “And I wouldn’t say we are the worst, Andrew. That isn’t fair, we just aren’t as widely recognized.”

“Yeah no shit.” Another voice cuts in and Neil watches Seth stalk up to Andrew’s already stiffening form, “We get the crazy fucks over here.” He puts his chin out, as if using Andrew as an example but the latter gives him a flat look.

Seth bristles at the worldless response he’s getting, but before he can say something else Neil is sliding in between the two.

“Exactly! That’s kinda why you’re here Seth.” He says, giving him a weak motion of his hand before turning himself to focus on the body again. Ignoring the indigent sputtering and a flat curse thrown his way. Neil’s grown used to the taller man’s constant temper. He has little to fear of what Seth could do besides being dead weight to the precinct. 

“Are you fucking stupid, Josten?” He snaps and Neil shrugs. 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Renee gives him an amused smile, and Neil tries to pinpoint the motive behind the placement of the body. It isn’t a natural position for someone to fall into, and judging by the thick slice across the victims throat. There would have been a few moments of struggle. Neil see’s the pool of blood surrounding the victim, and the pale sticky skin of the victim, his eyes shifting up to the writing on the wall and feels a frown tugging at his lips. Something like recognition sparks through him and Nathaniel is rearing his ugly head and Neil has to resist falling into his normal habits and keep his act up.

_This isn’t good._

“What? Are you waiting for the body to start moving?” Seth, ever persistent, says from behind. 

Neil volleys a confused look over his shoulder, “No, why would I? Things like that only occur within the first thirty minutes, give or take, after the actual death when the body releases gas or muscles spasm.” He points out, “This man has been dead for at least a few days, I’m sure I am not the only one smelling that.” 

Seth blinks at him, his mouth parted slightly before he finds his tongue again. “Fucking crazy people, it always has to be fucking crazy people.” 

“He’s not wrong.” Abby, the forensic scientist for the Baltimore police department says, moving away from where she had been questionably sitting next to Wymack. “We’ll be doing more tests once he’s back at the lab, but yes three or so days is my guess.” 

Neil frowns, “Why is the smell this bad though.” 

“Dead bodies don’t usually smell great.” Andrew comments, but Neil doesn’t miss how he glances back to Abby for an explanation. 

“We are looking into it.”

“Probably another body somewhere.” Neil decides, “Have we searched the entire container?” 

“Well we aren’t stupid, we are aware of how to study the crime scene.” Came a slightly pissy toned Wymack who had left Dan and sided along Abby. If Neil was another man, he might have laughed because he knew first hand how many things the police tended to overlook when it comes to these things. 

He watched Andrew shift closer, pushing his glasses on the top of his head and his hazel eyes flickering up and down, observing the area.

“Why did you ask me to bring, Neil?” He asked, 

“Not that I’m complaining!” Neil quickly jumped in because it had been one of the few times he hadn’t been stuck at Andrew’s desk with only a few cops and other people who worked in the precinct to keep him company. He hated it most when it was like that because he didn’t have Andrew around to piss off and Matt wasn’t around to steal coffee from. 

Good thing Andrew was usually always stuck at the precinct with him.

Wymack huffed, “We need more field experience for him, and we think this one has mob ties.”

Neil froze, Andrew’s eyes snapped to him at the subtle movement. Hazel ignited into that familiar inferno of curiosity he held whenever Neil had done something that broke his facade. Neil was starting to hate how easy the other read him, how easy he could pick him apart.

It scared Neil, not for fear of being caught, but of what he would have to do if Andrew did figure him out.

So, he tried to play off the moment's hesitation and turned to observe the dead man. He didn’t recognize him, but again, dead bodies sometimes looked very different from their living counterparts.

“Why do you say that?” He asks instead.

Wymack gives a slight shrug, “Tattoo, and he had very illegal firearms. Some things that should have been difficult to get his hands on.”

Neil relaxed, just a business partner then. 

“Could be gang related too.” 

“Could be.” Wymack agreed, “Less likely though.” 

Neil couldn’t argue that, but the people were moving now towards that body, as it got shoved into a black bag. The rest of the department spreads throughout the crime scene, more people and voices - other theories thrown about. Neil almost scoffed at some, apparently a ‘dirty cheater’ was a recent addition. 

“Find something funny?” 

Neil glanced over to his partner, whose back was pressed against another door. A cigarette hung from his mouth and the bitter smell brought Neil back to the days where he was sitting on his mother’s lap. Her eyes far away as she clutched him tighter, her hands carefully avoiding bandages she had stitched up and wrapped that morning. Her warmth was faint, and barely a whisper to him now. But he still grabbed at it with desperate hands. 

“No, not really. Just amusing theories.” Neil says back but Andrew seems unconvinced. 

“You didn’t seem too bothered by such a gruesome crime scene.” He cocks his head, flicking his cigarette and letting the ash fall to the ground, “Most people at least get a tiny bit queasy.”

Neil sighed, “Truth for truth?” 

It wasn’t a new game between the two, after their first meeting it had just grown into something they did to pass the time. Neil couldn’t say he minded that much, he enjoyed listening to Andrew talk about things in his past. Reasons why he had decided to become an officer, or about his small family that lived scattered, one in Germany, the other in med school following his dreams. Neil also didn’t have a difficult time telling the truth when Neil Josten’s origin story wasn’t a far cry from Nathaniel Wesninski. 

Andrew shrugged, “Whatever.” 

“It’s not the worst I’ve seen I guess.”

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me.” Andrew flicked the bud of his smoke onto the ground and pressed his heel to it, just as Dan and Matt came around the corner. Dan with a significant frown on her face, pointing an accusing finger in both of their directions. 

“Minyard! No smoking! Is it really that hard to walk outside of the crime scene, it’s not even far today!” Dan snapped, “Last time you almost got us in deep shit with the higher ups.”

Andrew only sent her a blank look before shaking another cigarette out of his pack. Pressing it in between his lips before holding his hand out in Neil’s direction, who pressed his own lighter into the open palm.

“Seriously.” She said, her tone exasperated as she stared at the two, “Who thought it would be a good idea to make them partners?” 

Andrew’s head snapped back to her before he was ripping off his sunglasses, “Do not suddenly start with that shit when I was trying to get rid of him for weeks.” 

“We thought he would be good for you... at first!” She argued, “Now you two get along too well and break rules.” 

“I feel like I should be slightly offended right now.” Neil pipes up at the eye roll from Andrew who thumps back against the other storage unit. “I’m a delight.” 

He tries to ignore Andrew’s scoff at that.

“Yes you are Neil.” Matt smiles from behind Dan, making his way over to reach a large hand out and press it against his curls. “What do you think bud?”

Neil hummed under his breath, “I’m leaning to gang related instead of Mob related. I don’t think people in organized crime would care much for making such a mess, unless they were trying to make a statement.” He paused, “Making someone disappear is statement enough with less risks of getting caught.”

“What about the woman at Red Luxury? Both had their throats slit, maybe it’s connected.”

 _Well that’s a no,_ Neil thought bitterly, _unless dear old Dad is trying to trip me up._

“No.” Andrew joined in, finishing off his smoke when Dan reached out and grabbed it from in between his lips. Neil watched with mild respect when he just shot her a glare before moving to stand next to Neil. “This isn’t the work of the same killer.” 

“Maybe we should be doing this back at the precinct.” Dan suggested, “With a white board and more information, come on Matt, I think Renee’s done.” 

Matt let go of Neil’s head, and it seemed like Andrew had agreed with his captain for once, but Neil couldn’t make himself move. His eyes narrowing at the tight space that had mostly been cleaned out now. All evidence being stashed away under the beating sun. 

“Neil?” Andrew asked, “You thinking of moving in?”

Neil shook his head, taking a quick step forward and for a breath let himself slip into the skills his mother had taught him for covering his tracks. The skills he had to learn so he could figure out who was targeting the Butcher’s business. 

“The wall.” He says finally, moving into the storage unit and glancing up. “The left wall is painted a different colour on this side.” 

“Uh, no it’s not?” Matt, who had followed Andrew, said. Frowning in the direction of where Neil was pointing. Not that Neil could blame him for not noticing, the colour had almost been perfectly matched to the other walls. 

_Almost._ He thinks bitterly, unfortunately, almost isn’t enough in this world. 

“There’s something behind this wall.” Neil presses further, ignoring the confused glances that surrounded him. His eyes fell to the crack that was starting along the side of it, spreading like fine spider webs up to the roof and down again, something was pressing weight onto an already weak structure. 

“How big are these storage units supposed to be?” He asks. 

The sound of shuffling paper before Dan’s hesitant response, “10x15 units, why?” 

“Has someone measured this one.” He gestures his finger around, but still doesn’t move his eyes away, because he thinks he just saw one of the cracks spread. “I think there is a fake wa-”

He doesn’t get to finish before the wall in question crumbles. Neil barely has time to react before a horrific smell slams into him making his stomach twist violently and someone is behind him. Swinging his body around and throwing them to the floor. Cement hits the ground in thuds, something is rolling and Neil thinks he might vomit from the stench that spreads and curls around him.

Andrew is blinking above him in surprise, his body pressing against Neil’s own. He can make out the stiff feeling of his uniform and the gun digging into his stomach, a hand pressed around the back of his head and Neil is surprised that Andrew had even thought about protecting his head in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Neil found himself asking, because the chunks of concrete he can see in his peripheral don’t look small. And Andrew may be thick headed but a hit with one of those could send someone to the ER. 

Andrew, who is still staring down at Neil, frowns. “I’m fine, no thanks to you.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll make sure it's _you_ under me next time.” Neil tries to wink, because he’s trying to be funny and it is funny. But Andrew’s scowl has fallen so deep he doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much emotion on the others face. 

“And besides, you just proved that you have killer reflexes.” He adds, trying, and falling to wipe the frown off of Andrew’s face. Instead he almost smiles at the slightly flushed look on his partners usually oh so passive face. 

“Idiot.” Is his endearing response before Andrew is shoving off of him and turning around to view the mess. 

By some kind of luck, Neil was the closest one to the wall when it had collapsed. Everyone else had scrambled out of the storage unit and were picking themselves up, wiping the dust and debris off of themselves. 

Neil also hears the faint gagging noises and gasps of horror as well. He can’t say he blames them this time either, because now there was another body sprawled across the floor. The force of impact on the decaying flesh caused the head to dislodge and rolled to the base of Neil and Andrew’s feet. 

“Well,” Neil begins, “I guess you could say I’m on a roll.” 

He turns to look over at Andrew, but the latter is now turned over and vomits onto the ground with a rough heave. Neil wrinkles his nose at the newly added smell and noise but still reaches a hand out and hovers over his back. 

“Want me to pat your back?” He asks, completely innocently. But the middle finger shoved in nis face is answer enough, even as the other wretches again. 

He gets a wheeze in response as he clambers to his feet and reaches down to help Andrew up to his feet and away from the smell and lady laying on the floor. Andrew for once, decides not to be difficult and takes the hand offered to him, before grabbing onto Neil’s shoulder for support. His face was pale and sticky, looking slightly green in the off coloured lighting of the storage unit.

“You know, I was gonna ask what the worst crime scene you’ve ever seen before was, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s this one.”

“Go fuck yourself, Josten.” Is the only response Neil gets.

-

The ‘murder’ was later deemed a suicide when the DNA on the woman’s body had matched that of the dead man. Abby carefully explained how the man had placed himself in a sacrifical position and altered the storage unit to appear like his own home. Claiming he slit his throat before bleeding out onto the floor, the tossed knife was discovered under the couch.

“How do you miss a fucking bloody knife? At a crime scene!” Neil asked, as Andrew forced him into the car on their lunch break. Claiming that Neil owed him food because he had been so generously saved from Andrew. Neil hadn’t complained since the precinct was quiet and he felt like he had actually proven himself for once. Proved he wasn’t dead weight.

“Told you we were the shitty department.” 

This is where everything started to fall to shit.

Andrew was in the driver's seat, eating the McDonalds beside him. Neil had no idea how the man could stomach it with the smell that started wafting throughout the car, even making a point to roll open the window. 

“Seriously?” Andrew asked, as he flicked a fry into his mouth, “Decapitated heads are fine, but you draw the line at McDonalds?”

“Most fast food actually.” Neil says, “I can’t stand that shit.” 

“You are truly the most fucked up person I ever met Josten.” The other grumbled, before flicking his sunglasses back down to cover his face. “People who don’t like fast food can not be trusted.” 

Neil wonders for a moment if his partner is serious and making a jab at him or is taking his deadpan humour out again for a spin again. Neil also never got to finish that thought because someone's voice was coming through the squad car’s radio. 

“Officer Minyard.” The voice crackled through the radio, Neil was fairly sure it was Dan. “You’re needed at the station.”

“Why?” 

There was a sharp breath, _she’s nervous,_ Neil noted, he eyed Andrew but the other still seemed relaxed, if not slightly tense from being requested. 

“We have a witness for the Red Luxury attack.” Dan said finally, “We think anyways. We also think it’s best if you question her, she’s… not doing well with us. ” She trailed off and he watched the whitening of Andrew’s knuckles on his steering wheel as each word came through. 

Neil also tried to swallow the fear that spiked through him at the words as well, tried to think if anyone was blaringly important in his mind, because there shouldn’t be- he had accounted for everyone, he was careful he-

He had thirteen witnesses stashed in a warehouse out of town. Thirteen _children_.

Oh, oh no.

“I’ll be there in five.” Andrew's response was quick and firm, and thankfully for once. He didn’t seem to notice his partner’s quick tapping of his finger against his pant leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip andrew minyard 2k20, he's gay and suffering. rip nathaniel wesninski because he's a dumbass tm.


	4. Thoughts & Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard meets a girl that trusts a man in a mask more than a man in with a badge.
> 
> Nathaniel Wesninski has a problem, he has thirteen adolescents stashed in a warehouse, and only twelve are still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings; discussion of past assault, and rape.
> 
> here this bad boy is, I've have over a hundred pages written for this, I just need to edit more ugh.
> 
> chapter song title; 'thoughts & prayers' by grandson

The precinct is bitingly cold when Andrew pushes open the front door, Neil trailing not far behind. He can feel the concerned gaze on his back like the insistent presence of a fly buzzing in his ear - not harming him, but enough to make his skin crawl in frustration.

Neil knows bits and pieces of Andrew's past, this has been on purpose. Andrew does not wish to spill his dirty secrets or explain the reason why he cowers away from any kind of touch that is not one of violence or force. He doesn't want to fully explain why his heart's beating faster then it should and he can feel his oh-so perfect memory whispering with old memories that wait out of sight to attack him when he least expects it. 

He doesn't want to see another broken child. 

"Andrew?" It is light, and Neil is not one to be gentle. The fact rolls uncomfortably inside him but he still offers a glance in the direction of his partner. 

Of course he is still only wearing a hoodie, the least professional Civilian Consultant Andrew thinks he's ever met. His face still covered in powder and Andrew still hasn't asked, his eyes still covered with contacts but it is getting to the point that Andrew thinks they really might just be for seeing and he's been a fool. Neil is harsh lines and jagged words, he is lies and truths stacked into one and he is _not_ gentle. But yet here he stands, inches away with a look that makes Andrew want to fight him. 

"Don't look at me like that." He snaps and, because Neil is built sturdier than anyone thinks, he does not flinch. He only blinks, adjusts his stance and tries from a different angle.

"Right, I just thought I saw you shaking and I worry. It's been a long few days-" 

_'And I'm not sure you can handle this',_ goes unsaid. 

"I'm fine Josten." Andrew says, probably colder than he should, because the fear in Dan's voice is enough to give away that this is a case that is going to hit too close to Andrew's past, and everyone here, except Neil, knows that Andrew is only a ticking time bomb, moments away from exploding again. 

So he enters the room where the other officers sit. Seth having his legs up on the table, nursing a coffee. Matt hovering over the screen with furrowed brows, no doubt watching his newly wedded wife in fear and anticipation. The shit show crew is on this, stupid Wymack, he thinks and moves for the large grey doors.

Andrew was prepared for whatever came at him when he pushed open the doors to the interrogation room. He even shoved a sputtering Neil back, ignoring his qwak about them being partners because he really didn’t have the time to deal with him right now, all big brown eyes and bone deep fucking understanding. He sighed lightly in irritation as he closed the door as lightly as he could behind himself. He wasn’t stupid enough to just let it slam shut like most of his co-workers. He had barely been with the force for a year, but he had grown up with his fair share of broken kids staring up at him, more specifically, looking at him through the mirror. Of course being an officer now didn’t help this ever growing list. It fed an angry, vile, beast in his gut that begged to be let loose at times like these so he could rip every predator into fucking shreds. 

But his past had also crafted him to be perfect for things like this.

A little girl, wearing torn and old clothing, sat at the table. Her knees brought to her chest, her chin tucked on top, as her eyes instantly jumped to Andrew, her brown eyes much too sharp for someone so young. A grey blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and a steaming mug in hand. Renee was crouched by her, talking softly and Dan took her left side, but the girl was ignoring them both. Her body rigid, her face carefully forced to be blank but her bottom lip still trembled slightly.

“Andrew.” Renee acknowledged, and stood from the floor at his entrance. He gave her a quick nod before changing his stare over to Dan who was still trying to talk to the younger girl.

“Stop smothering her, Wilds.” He gritted out, and raised his eyebrow at the smothering look she sends him. She looked like she wanted to say something else but she wasn’t going to be the person who lost her professionalism in front of a child. 

“Maddie, this is Andrew, he’s also here to help you. You can trust him.” Dan said softly, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, completely missing her flinch. “Call if you need anything.” 

With that she follows Renee out of the room with little hesitation, but she still glances over her shoulder before walking through the door. 

A long time ago, Andrew would’ve bared his teeth at the obvious show of distrust. But he’s trying to be better.

Instead, he moved to his seat at a normal pace, no need to over do the ‘being gentle’ thing. He can already sense the anxiety wafting off of her, her eyes refusing to meet Andrew’s. Which was never a good sign, but she seems less tense with him than she did with the girls. 

He sits on the chair and leans back, crossing his legs. “What do you like to be called?”

The girl blinks, frowns, and then looks down to the floor. Apparently already deeming him not a threat, Andrew tried to decide what that meant. Less trauma? Or was it focused in a different area. 

“They just told you.” She says finally. Reaching a hand up to pull at her long black hair that was braided tightly, but falling out in long wisps. 

Andrew tapped his finger on the table, causing her to glance up and briefly meet his eyes, “I’m asking if that’s what you like to be called.” 

She opens her mouth for a moment, before shrugging. “I prefer Mads.” 

“Okay, Mads. Is there a reason for that?” 

The tension in her shoulders is back instantly and Andrew swallows the upcoming rage, because someone had a nickname- something- that they ruined for her. “Okay.” He says, grabbing Renee’s pen and a notebook, biting the cap off with his teeth and began writing.

This seemed to alarm Mads, her head bolting up right, “I didn’t say anything!” 

“Didn’t need to.” Andrew returns calmly, “I hate when people call me AJ, so I get not liking certain nicknames.” He offers her in return, twirling the pen in hand once before glancing to the mug still tucked close to her body but he notes she hadn’t taken a sip. “What are you drinking?” 

Mads narrows her eyes at Andrew, “I already told the cops everything I know, I promise. Can I please just leave now.” 

Andrew does not flinch at her words, he only hums under his breath lightly.

“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t what I asked.” 

The tension and anxiety that had been simmering under her skin finally seemed to hit its peak. Hitting both of them full force as she flies to her feet, her hands hitting the table in frustration. Though Andrew notices the trembling in her lips increasing, and the glimmer in her eyes. “I know you’re trying to get me to trust you but it’s not gonna happen okay? I’m not saying nothin, and screw everyone here for treating me like a baby!”

_Interesting._

“How old are you then?” He responds, making sure his face stays the same careful blank mask it had been before her outburst. Her lips curl into a sneer when the first tears start to fall. 

“I’m nine. But that doesn’t matter because Papa told me I had an old soul. I have lived many lives before this one, and all their stories are a part of me. Papa said I might even be older than him when it comes down to it.” 

Andrew nods, before standing and placing his notebook down. He reaches a hand out and hovers it over Mads’ shoulder but doesn’t touch, “Will you sit down, Mads?” 

Mads blinks at him owlishly, “Why?” 

“Because I need you to breathe, I can tell that you are scared. I need you to know I won’t force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. The only thing I’m concerned about right now is if you are safe or not. That is all I care about, and even if that is all you are willing to tell me. Then I will do my best to get you what you need after that. Okay?” He keeps his tone bored and impartial, but pushes the final few sentences harder. Watches the tension start to slink out of her body, tears dropping from her eyes at a quicker pace now as she all but collapses into her chair. 

“Thank you.” He says, because she did as he asked. He too sits back down, removing his hand completely from her space, before levelling her with his stare again. “Are you safe Mads? Or when you walk out those doors, will you be in any type of danger?”

Mads stifled a sob with her hand. Nine year olds can only lie so much before they break. 

“I am now- I am, I promise.” Her hands grasp the edge of the table, “He only asked for one thing from everyone, for us all to wait while he figured something out. But- but I thought I saw Papa’s angel.” 

Andrew tried to keep the anger that sputtered to life, off of his face; his fists curling into the fabric of his uniform, _don’t snap, don’t shut her down._

“Your papa’s angel?” He questioned and the girl frantically nodded her head, wiping her snot away with her sleeve.

“I- I was so excited, because Papa told me that his angel would always watch over me if anything happened to him so he couldn’t be there himself.”

 _Most likely dead father, no mention of the mother yet,_ he notes.

“So I thought I finally caught him. But when I got out he wasn’t there anymore, I kept looking but-” Her shoulders dropped, “I got lost and I couldn’t figure out where I was, but then I found my old home. I didn’t like it there, but I was scared. So I went to it, because that’s where I met Abram and I thought it was my best chance in finding him again.” 

“That’s where the police caught you.” He concluded for her, “You were forced here, that’s why you didn’t want to talk.” He didn’t need to see Mads’ nod to know he was correct. 

Over so many years, he was deeply grateful for the easy apathetic mask that covered his every feature. So the young girl in front of him couldn’t see the blinding fury that was breathing down his neck.

“Who is Abram?” 

Mads glances up again, the blood running out of her face, leaving it a sticky light brown. As if now just realizing she’s said something she wasn’t supposed to. 

She made a noise akin to a squeak, shaking her head. “He isn’t anyone bad, I promise. But he might get in trouble if I say anything else.”

Andrew cracked his knuckle under the table, _oh_ , he had heard that before. “How isn’t he bad? What does he do with you Mads? You can tell me whatever you think of.” 

He isn’t a fan of manipulating children, but either it’s that or he rips the city apart himself to find this ‘Abram’ and demand the answers for him himself. His knives are still warm against his skin. It had been so long since he had last used them. 

But Mads doesn’t say what he expects, “He saved me. All of us, with his friends. He fed us and he gave us blankets, and got rid of Mother.”

Andrew pauses, “Mother?” He echos back and watches as the walls build higher in Mads’ eyes. A trigger, he decides, women. That was why she was shutting down Renee and Dan too. “This Mother hurt you?”

Mads nods, her lip wiggles again. “She made us all do bad things.” She whispers, it is now he notices her trembling fingers that are scarred, her fingernails broken beyond repair. “She took Papa away from me, and told me that _she_ was my mother. That isn’t true though because she isn’t! Papa had loved my actual mommy a lot, he told me all the time. But I had to listen because I was scared she would never give Papa back to me if I disobeyed or was mean.” 

Andrew glanced to the security camera, knowing the rest of the team were watching. He could practically see their fingers flying on keyboards and shouting as they shoved everyone around. “Can you tell me something about Mother? Anything at all? Like what she wore or what she looked like?” He pushes, because someone had to pay, someone had to suffer.

Mads shrugs, it’s an attempt to hide the fear that takes control of her entire body when the name is mentioned, “She liked the colour red? She wore it all the time and made us wear it too. She also likes collars, everyone had their own.” 

_Sheila Jackson,_ he can’t say he’s surprised. Someone had already delivered the punishment apparently. He can’t help be a little bit jealous. 

“Okay, thank you Mads. I can assure you that you don’t have to fear your Mother anymore. She will never lay a finger on you again.” 

Mads nods, “Oh, I know! Abram told me that after one of my nightmares, I’ve always had them pretty bad. Oh and he even told me a story one time. He’s really nice about that stuff even though Sam is usually the one who keeps watch over everyone she’s also kinda nice.”

He didn’t miss the wary look she sent him though at the confession, the distrust of the badge on his chest almost makes him want to rip it off, because the fear wasn’t for those in her story anymore. It was for him. 

_Fuck._

“Okay Mads, I know you think this Abram is a good man. But I need you to tell me a little bit more about him so I can make sure he is safe myself, okay?”

Or more importantly, arrest the fuck, he thinks. Because even if he’s ‘nice’ now, it doesn’t take long before they change. Andrew swallows against an old set panic in his gut and the ghost of hands lingering across his skin.

“He’ll get in trouble though.” Mads says softly, her hands curling around her mug protectively. “He’s safer than anyone else.”

“No.” He corrects quickly, “ _I_ am safer than anyone else.”

Andrew would burn the fucking world to the ground if it meant saving one more kid before life shattered them for good.

“I know you think this man is a good man now Mads, but people are not as they seem, I’m sure you know this. Good people do not hide a group of kids from the police. He should have called us, so we could get you all proper help.” 

Andrew hates humans. He hates how cruel and wicked and twisted everyone is at the roots. He hates how he knows the exact kind of person this girl has been grabbed by. He hates knowing he is sitting in a room, while god knows how many kids are trapped somewhere, moments away from an unimaginable hell. Filled with the hope they had escaped one nightmare, only to fall into another. 

“I need your help Mads, if Abram is a good man, then there is no reason for you to worry about him.” 

She watches him, with eyes that are too old to be in a body so young. Her body stiff as she puts the cup down quietly, the fight draining out of her slowly and Andrew hates it because he feels responsible for it. 

“I will help look for your papa, so we know where he is or where he went. Do you want that?” Andrew asks, and that brings Mads attention back. He sees the spark of hope in her eyes but he refuses to let it take complete hold of her and destroy her completely when the news he brings back is bad. “I can’t promise to bring him back to you Mads, you need to understand that. I am only offering to help figure out where he went, okay?” 

The hope doesn’t leave her face, she bobs her head up and down. “Please, Officer Andrew. I know Papa might be gone physically but he promised he’s always here.” She presses a hand to her chest and he is yet again reminded faintly why he had decided to become this in the first place. 

He raises his hand, “But in exchange I need you to tell me what you know about Abram and where you are staying at currently, okay? If Abram is a good man, nothing bad will happen to him.” 

It’s a lie, he hates telling it, but something else is consuming him.

Mads hesitates barely, before nibbling on her bottom lip. She opens her mouth a few times to speak but nothing comes out, but then she nods and Andrew knows he’s won.

“He has blue eyes, really, really blue. But he told me once he didn’t like them, because I told him that I hated the mole by my lip even if people kept telling me it was pretty. He said he felt the same way for his eyes, but that my mole was a part of me and that it couldn’t possibly be bad.” 

_Blue eyes._ He writes it on the paper in front of him. 

“Okay. That’s good, thank you Mads, is there anything else?” 

“Uh…” She twiddles her fingers, “He wears gloves a lot, and he covers most of his face around everyone. He always dressed in complete black usually, he carried sharp knives and stuff but he stopped wearing them around everyone. His voice is nice too and same with his eyes, but that is really all anyone sees.” She stops for a moment, her eyes shifting down to her hands as if embarrassed. Andrew feels that sick spike cutting into his gut-

“But one time, I had a really, really scary nightmare about the people who used to hurt me. I woke up screaming and everything and Abram came running in but he’s always dressed in black and I was really scared of him for a moment so he took off his mask and promised me he was there to keep me safe. So I asked him why he hid from us and he told me he wasn’t hiding. Just that it was safer for us, and asked me not to tell anyone what he looked like.” She frowns, small eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “I can’t- It was really dark, I’m sorry Officer Andrew.”

Blank face, but his heart is thudding against his chest because he’s so fucking close he can taste it.

“That’s okay, try and tell me anything you remember at all. What about his hair? Or does he have any marks that stood out, kinda like his eyes. Maybe something like a tattoo or scar?”

Mads mouth drops open in an O. “Yeah! Actually he-”

There was a loud slam outside the door that cut her off. Andrew was on his feet in a second, gun in his hands and spun to face the sound. He takes a step back, trying to cover Mads with his body but the girl had already jumped from her chair and scrambled into a ball in the corner of the room. 

“Dan, what the fuck is going on?” He shouts to the camera, but is greeted with nothing but static. Cursing under his breath, he moves towards the door. He could lock it and keep Mads safe insid-

Too late, does Andrew notice a pungent smell that was creeping through the vents. His body growing weak, and the grip on his gun loosening by the moment.

He barely has the time to utter a heartfelt, _fuck,_ before the floor starts rushing towards him and fades to black

* * *

Now Nathaniel hadn’t wanted to gas the police station, but he had run out of options. 

The moment he caught sight of Mads sitting in that room, her face pale and her body trembling. His gut had twisted in blinding anger and fear because at first he had thought someone had kidnapped her - or someone had betrayed him. Unlikely, but always possible. His father had new spots opening up on his line since he’s most recent deal with some of the local gangs. Maybe one of the men decided that working for Nathaniel was no longer enough and started chasing bigger sheep

But... no, Mads was just acting like a normal nine year old and went chasing after the ghost of her dead dad. 

Guess everyone had daddy issues in their own special ways. 

After having the door slammed in his face, and managing to slave off an oncoming panic attack. He moved to the monitor running in the room.

Dan was glued to the screen, broadcasting what Andrew was saying to the young girl. They had managed to give her a shower, he noted, distantly. That was good, Nathaniel had no fucking clue how he was suppose to get thirteen kids clean without having running water - much less heated running water. Nathaniel tucked Neil away with a sigh, because fuck it all, he wasn’t about to get snitched out already. 

But of course it had to be _his_ partner that got called in, with his stupidly good problem solving skills. The only person in this entire precinct that he felt truly threatened by; was now sitting in a room with a girl that could point a finger directly as Nathaniel.

“Why Andrew?” He asked, because damn it all. Matt, who flanked Dan, gave a harsh snort. 

“He is uncanningly good with kids.”

“Fucked up people are good at understanding kids who are on their way to also being fucked up people.” Seth volunteered from the couch, sipping absently on a steaming cup of coffee and ignored the sharp glare Dan sent him.

“She’s just a kid.” She hissed, letting the venom leak into her tone. But, curiously, they didn’t say anything about the comment on Andrew. Nathaniel was surprised that he felt angry at their attitudes. 

They knew what he knew, that Andrew had grown up in the foster care system. Something that the man had shared with him during their newly obtained game of ‘truth for truth’. Andrew hadn’t said much else on the topic other than the fact it wasn’t pleasant. His face looked gaunt in the dying sun of that evening, the cigarette burning to completion. Ghosts and skeletons dancing in his eyes, Neil didn’t say anything to him that night, because they both knew how pointless a sorry was, not after everything was done. 

So, seeing that blatant disregard to Andrew’s past, not acknowledging that he was digging up his past demons for a child he didn’t know in hopes of being able to help her, it made Nathaniel livid. Made him want to spit fire, made him want to hiss their misunderstandings, and disregard _their_ history. Fair exchange he thinks. 

But with his fist curling, the words coming to the tip of his tongue he feels a light touch on his wrist. 

It was Renee. He blinked at her in surprise, and her gentle but sad smile. Her eyes seemed angry too, maybe just for a breath, before the brown irises had returned to their usual warmth.

Nathaniel knew Renee used to be Andrew’s old partner, and for a man who rarely had anything good to say about anyone, spoke high praises of her in his own way. A friend, Nathaniel decided, this was someone who was Andrew’s friend and maybe understood the same demons.

Nathaniel unclenched his fist, letting the anger fall back into his control. He was being stupid, stupid to put himself on line for someone he was supposed to be manipulating into giving him more information of the organization. Instead here he was trying to defend his honour. 

Even his mother would have hit him for that. 

With a sigh, he glanced back to the statically TV screen. Andrew spoke with a calm steady cadence, his body loose and showing none of his tension he must be feeling. Neil even felt a small glimmer of respect for his partner as he talked Mads down. Easily crafting a position of comfort, one similar to the one Abram had offered her. Easily coaxing her into a promise of better protection - a better deal. Fuck, if Nathaniel didn’t know he had thirteen kids still relying on him to keep them out of jail, he might just have let her. But the cops would be on them in an instant and he knew his name would come up soon, could see Mads body itch with the need to burst. He wouldn’t have long until the countdown to his demise would begin. So, he pulled out his phone and sent Allison a quick text. 

**_Nate_ ** _\- at work/police station, gonna gas it, be here in five or send someone who can be. reg proto. thanks._

**_Ally_ ** _\- wat??_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- Nate wdym rn?_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- fck you_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- i hate you sm_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- this isnt even my work number u ass_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- Nate?_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- Nate??_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- BIG FUCKING ASSHOLE YOUR PHONE IS BUZZING._

 **_Ally_ ** _\- surprised its even fcking charged…._

**_Nate_ ** _\- Stop wasting time, hurry._

**_Ally_ ** _\- Charlie boy is already on his way fuckface._

 **_Ally_ ** _\- so suck on my massive plastic dick_

 **Ally** \- _K whatever, be safe okay?_

**_Nate_ ** _\- Can you get home early actually?_

**_Ally_ ** _\- yea why?_

**_Nate_ ** _\- I’m gassing myself too so I’m going to be sick for a bit_

**_Ally_ ** _\- haha fuck off_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- u aren’t funny_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- Nate?_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- Nate I stg_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- ffs i hate u sm_

-

It never was difficult to slip out of the other officers' sights, he offered Renee an excuse of using the washroom and he had gotten to work.

It took no time for his own team to assemble themselves around the precinct, slipping the ear piece he carried around with him into his ear and only hearing Charles' voice come over the other-side. 

“It’s out, you got ten minutes before they start waking up, boss.” 

Only Charles today, okay, he could work with that. His emergency plan wasn’t exactly the most flushed out, but pressed up against a bathroom stall, planning on gassing his co-workers he was feeling a tad bit worried it wouldn’t work.

Nevermind that, the Butcher’s son didn’t have time to second guess himself.

“Meet me in the back alley.” He snaps. 

“Roger.” 

Nathaniel ripped out the headpiece from his ear, before shoving it into his pocket. Snapped the gas mask he had hidden in Andrew’s desk months prior, onto his face. Moving out of the bathroom with practice ease, glancing up at the camera’s to confirm they were off. He pressed his back against the door for a few moments, and eyed everyone’s unmoving bodies in the precinct, Nathaniel felt slightly smug at Sheena being face first in her lunch. Bitch.

He didn’t waste anymore time, reaching the interrogation room and slamming the door open. Moving past the even breathing of Andrew’s squad, at the moment he only felt bad for Renee. He moved to the large mental door, flicking the handle and letting it fly open. Just in time for Nathaniel to watch as Andrew dropped face first onto the floor, his gun clattering away from him. 

He gritted his teeth together in frustration, trying to not give to his body trying to run to Andrew’s side.

Mads was in the corner. Her frail body curled in a ball, and he could see the tremors that went through her, so he made sure to keep his voice soft when he moved forward, “Mads it’s me.”

Her head jumped up, her face buried in her shirt like he had taught all of the kids in case something like this occurred. Well, not exactly like this, he was more so planning in case the base got raided by his father and he had to wipe them out and get the kids out. But this worked too. He wasn’t a fucking idiot, Nathaniel always had back up plans, and fuck everyone else for not thinking so. 

He had Charles and Sam hook up the dispersers into the vents his first night here, making sure to hide the mask on his second. Made sure to make jokes about it, so if Andrew were to stumble upon it, it he could smile, could laugh, and Andrew wouldn’t question it.

He hated, _hated_ it. Refusing to look at the unconscious blonde behind him.

Mads, however, now looked like she was about to say something and he shook his head, “Don’t talk, I gotta get you out of here okay?” His voice was muffled from his mask but she still nodded and got to her feet. As quickly as he could he bared his back to her and she jumped up onto it. Like back at Jackson’s, when she had a twisted ankle at the time. 

Her tiny arms wrapping around his neck, her face turning to hide in it and he told her to keep her face covered.

Nathaniel had always been fast, something he would have prided himself on if he had any pride in him. It came in handy when racing against the clock of unconscious co-workers. He observed every other still form in the precinct and he knew there was going to be a hell of a backlash for this. 

“Are they dead?” Mads whispered against his neck.

“No Mads, I wouldn’t hurt people like them. I told you, only bad people.” 

She nodded, and a child’s trust shouldn’t make his heart hurt like it did. 

When he opened the back door, Charles was leaning against the alley wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes darted to Mads hanging off of Nathaniel and he laughed lightly, flicking the bud to the ground. 

“Of course it was you.” He said, because no matter how much Nathaniel could barely stand Charles, Charles still had three little sisters and a thirst for blood for anyone who thinks fucking around with kids was a good idea. 

He passed Mads over, “I’m going to get someone from the police involved now, I think I can convince someone to help me get the kids out, better homes or some shit. I’ll discuss it later.” He reached up and took the mask off of his face, and the earpiece in his pocket out; shoving them into Charles’ waiting hand. 

Mads’ frown, and even if Nathaniel’s time with dwindling by the minute, he still paused. 

“What’s wrong, Mads?” 

“Andrew was wrong.” She said slowly, “I knew he was wrong.”

“What?”

Mads frown slowly grew into a shy smile, “He was trying to tell me you were a bad man, I knew he was wrong.” 

“Oh-” He felt like the air was punched out of his lungs, _he was anything but._ “Thank you Mads, now go, both of you.”

With that Charles’ gave him a two fingered salute, ignoring the edge to Nathaniel’s voice. He placed Mads on the ground, taking her hand so they didn’t raise suspicions. Nathaniel was too busy trying to swallow the lump in his throat down as he watched them walk away. 

“I can try and hold off the old man for as long as possible,” Charles says before he was out of sight, “He’s going to be pissed.” 

“Don’t.” Nathaniel snapped, “Leave it to me, now go, get her somewhere safer.” 

_He’ll slit your throat in seconds, don’t be a fucking idiot._

Maybe for once, Charles got the message because Nathaniel didn’t hear a response as he turned to open the door to the precinct again with his shirt as his only protection against the thick gas and hoped to god he didn’t wake up with a bullet in his head. 

* * *

Andrew Minyard woke up to another’s face far too close to his own. So he did the only thing he knew how to and reacted. 

Slamming his fist upwards, relishing in the choked gasp of a pain that came when he connected with flesh. Andrew moved, kicking his feet out to catch himself in a crouch but the spinning in his head made him loose a few seconds of precious time. He very quickly stopped letting himself enjoy the faint cursing from behind when he realized his disadvantage. Instead, he whipped around, planning to throw whoever thought coming near him was a good idea, into a crushing headlock.

“Andrew, you’re fine.” A familiar voice rang through his mind as his eyes fought to clear up and the recognition of where he was started sinking into him when he found himself on the ground in the interrogation room. The cold tile dug into his knees as he locked eyes with Seth who was covering his face, blood seeping between his fingers. 

“Motherfucker!” Seth shouted but Matt was already there, stumbling slightly, but still managing to haul him back. “You crazy motherfucker.” 

“Seth.” Renee, who was the one standing behind him, stepped in. Her hand hovering over his shoulder but not touching, “Andrew was the last one out and probably figured you were the attacker, back down.” Her words were calm and spoken with her usual cadence but he didn’t miss the threat that laid under it. “Andrew, can I help you up?” 

He answered with a stiff nod, trying to not wince as her hands gripping his shoulders and helping pull him to his feet. His memory slowly coming back to him as he blinked through the fog in his brain. Neil, Neil being annoying, Neil was always annoying, and Red Luxury, the call, Dan, a witness, witness…? 

“Mads.” The realization shot like a bolt through him. Bringing a rare crack in his apathy as he shoved Renee away to spin to the corner she had been in before he went down. His stomach dropped when no one was there, a blank empty spot that made his gut twist out in horror. “Renee, tell me she is out there.” He gritted out.

The look on Renee’s face was answer enough.

_No, not again._

“I’m sorry Andrew, we haven’t- whoever came. I think they came for her.” 

His legs almost crumpled out from him again as his fingers curled into a tight fist. _Fuck_ , he’d failed another one, he failed another kid. Another kid was going to die. Worse than die even. He failed, he failed, he failed. He could already picture her face showing up in some newspaper, big brown eyes, once innocent, her body in the morgue defiled and dead. Because Andrew wasn’t fast enough, because he was a failure, another failure-

“Andrew!” Renee’s voice once again broke through his spiralling thoughts at the same time a sharp stinging zipped up his arm. He hadn’t realized he had punched the table. “You aren’t any help to her like this, you need to calm down. We will find her.”

“Don’t say shit like it’s so certain.” He snapped, “She was going to expose whoever it was, they’ll kill her as a lesson.”

Renee levelled his stare, “Don’t say shit like it’s so certain, that’s what you just said, Andrew. They didn’t harm her before and there is no way of knowing how much the attacker knew or heard.” 

“They knew enough.”

Andrew shook his head, his fingers digging into the palms of his hands as he fought to calm his body down. Tried to pull at the apathy in his core and layer it over the rage that was splitting him at the seams. Letting go of a shaky breath as his body burned and his mind still scrambled back on line. “Did everyone get hit?” He asked finally, when he was semi sure he wouldn’t lose it again. 

Renee nodded, but never got to say anything when Dan’s voice came through the open door. “Where’s Neil?” 

_Neil._

Andrew sharpened his back at the sudden reminder of his partner. His annoying fucking partner. For a moment a new thought took over Andrew’s already full mind, _what if they got him too_?

Irrational thought, part of him said. But it still didn’t stop him from breaking out of his trance and only quickening his step when Matt gave a sharp inhale and said. 

“I don’t know.” 

He shoved the door open, falling into the precinct, his eyes scanning room from room, desk to desk. His heart thudded against his chest and he wasn’t sure when he had gotten so fucking concerned for Neil’s wellbeing. Because he was his partner and he wasn’t-

He turned the corner and found Neil’s body sprawled across the floor, half way out of the washroom. A coffee mug smashed to pieces but his limp arm, half of it on Neil himself. His leg was still in the washroom, resting propped up against the sink, the other on the floor. He looked like an idiot, like always.

The rush of relief Andrew felt was something he would admit to no one. 

He drops to the floor, brushing the broken shards of glass away as quickly he could. Before gently moving his arms under Neil and pushed him onto his back. Andrew was almost shocked by how light the man was. Once he was situated him properly, he reached over and pressed his fingers to the man’s pulse and felt it steadily thumping against them. 

Andrew let a shaky exhale go before the pulse quickened rapidly under his touch.

A groan, fluttering eyes and a sudden hand going for Andrew’s throat is what greeted him. Neil moves efficiently for someone who just got gassed for, hopefully, the first time. But Andrew had half the mind to wonder if his partner would react like this. Since their conversation a month ago led Andrew to believe he wasn’t as helpless as he seems. So he swings his other arm up to take the brunt of the attack.

It’s hard, and rattles Andrew for a moment before he can find his voice.

“Neil, it’s Andrew. You’re in the precinct in Baltimore.” 

Wrong thing to say apparently, as Neil’s face breaks out into a snarl. Cold, cold eyes burning back at him, a hand reaching for something and Andrew realizes in a few horrific moments that Neil is armed. 

“Neil.” He repeats because, where Andrew doesn’t give two shits if Neil is armed or not, he knows others will. “Neil snap out of it you’re safe.” 

There are footsteps coming behind him, and Neil doesn’t stop. 

“Neil! Its Andrew. _You are safe_.” He hisses, almost desperately. 

The attack stops. Almost as quick as it started, and Andrew finds himself staring at Neil, or more correctly, whoever Neil was before all of this. Then he blinks, and a rabbit takes its root in those bright brown eyes, Neil returning in a few short breaths, his act pulled up again. 

Not for the first time, Andrew thinks; _who the fuck are you?_

The earlier footsteps from behind him come to a stop as Neil takes a shaky breath, his hands still wrapped around Andrew’s wrist in a lock painful enough that it makes his bones creak. One more movement and Neil would have shattered it. 

At the same time he also notices he hadn’t let go of Neil, still clinging to his shoulder. Their eyes met and they let go at the same time. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Matt gasps, “Neil are you-” But he never gets to finish because his legs buckle and he vomits on the floor. 

Andrew eyes him in disgust: not good, not good at all. But it also means the toxins might be leaving the bodies. Andrew glances down at himself and Neil, but he feels fine and Neil looks fine. But that was probably because they were the last to wake up. 

The sound of sirens do little to relieve his growing tension. So after one last check up on Neil, he pushes himself to his feet. He stumbles aimlessly for a few moments, centring himself on the chairs and desks of his coworkers as he tries to make his way back to his own. Collapsing in a heap on the grey chair with a ragged gasp as he fights down the growing panic attack.

_You’ll find her, breathe goddamn it, fucking breathe._

But the ghost of blue eyes is staring at him, blue eyes to a too young child who he promised he’d keep safe and their body was found a day later. 

_Fuck, fuck, please not again._

Ironically enough, it was the note that saved him from breaking down in the last place he would want too. His eyes catching on the ripped piece of paper resting innocently on his work. He lunged forward, because he knew that wasn’t there before, he fucking knew-

He grabs it, lifting it up and swallows the bile crawling up the throat.

_Dear Officer Andrew,_

_Meet me at Sumconhill, midnight tonight, by the old mall. Only you, I will know if you bring someone else or alert anyone else of where you are going. Think I’m joking? Try it._

_She’s safe, I will keep her that way, with or without your help Minyard._

_-“Abram”_

_ps. hope this is a good enough phone call, sorry, I just don’t make a habit of giving my number out to strangers._

* * *

[listen to the spotify playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tGVG8DYcga1vSmnvXj5j6?si=VM5YpPPWRuOyAy4kJtjOKQ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit kinda really starts going now I'll try an edit quicker and get the stuff I already have up! Please comment if you enjoyed :) I love reading them, they make my day.
> 
> also i can't fcking figure out links on this website I stg


	5. My Secret Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel Wesninski wants to make the bad people bleed, and he wants to be the one to make the cut.  
> Andrew Minyard wants to do the right thing; even if it isn't the legal thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings; rape mention, implied rape, implied child abuse; violence
> 
> I didn't edit this well, my apologies I hate editing. 
> 
> chapter song title; 'My Secret Friend' by IAMX

Nathaniel had gotten himself into poor situations before, but this one took the cake. He leaned over his bed and weakly vomited into the bucket since there was nothing left in his stomach. Allison patted his back, shaking her head but still snickering beside him. “You really shit outta luck recently huh?” 

“Fuck you, it's not like I had many choices.” 

After being let off by the ambulance, with the doctor's promising the entire precinct it was a nontoxic substance and that everyone would be just fine. Neil had made a phone call to Allison to come get him. His stomach had already been flipping around unhappily, so when it finally fully hit he remembered why he hated this so much. Even with years of built up tolerance, this was always the worst part. 

Allison laughed, “Man, that’s gonna be a blow to their confidence now. I wonder how they’ll explain it.” 

He offered her a shrug before flipping onto his back with a groan, his eyes darting over to his bedside clock to spy at the time. Andrew would be meeting him - or  _ Abram - _ in the next five hours and he would have to clean shit up with his father before then.

With a grunt he started pushing himself up into a sitting position, “I gotta start getting ready.” 

“Why’d you pick tonight anyways?” Allison asks from her perch beside him. Handing a glass of water over wordlessly. 

Nathaniel takes it gratefully, hoping it would null the pounding headache he was currently fighting, while offering her a shrugged, “You haven’t met Andrew, he doesn’t need to rip himself apart for longer than necessary.” 

_ You didn’t see him at the crime scene. _

Neil has never, in his poorly lived life, wanted to reveal the trust nature of who he was. But seeing Andrew’s cold dead eyes as he sat lifeless on the end of the ambulance caused guilt to overwhelm him to the point he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to reach a hand out and comfort him, promise him that she was okay and that he didn’t fail- 

-Nathaniel just didn’t have another choice. 

He clenches his fist tightly and the water bottle in his grip crackles loudly, bringing him back to reality. Ignoring the small sting of the freezing water.

Allison perked an eyebrow up at that but thankfully didn’t comment further. He could already see the amusement lingering under the surface because of her insistence that he should ask the cop out. Nathaniel was getting bored of it, wishing she understood the difference between partner, and  _ partner.  _ Still, she must take some envy on him because she lets him huff out a sigh, and close his eyes for a few moments; leaving him to suffer silently in his misery. 

It was when his phone started ringing, that Nathaniel knew his night was finally getting started. He already knew what it was going to be about, but he allowed himself a few moments of peace before he reached over. Picked it up, and answered. 

“Nathaniel, your presence is requested at the main house in the following twenty minutes. A car is on its way to gather you.” A cold, emotionless voice broke through the device. 

“Lovely.” Nathaniel replied, letting his own cold inflection leak into his tone. Patrick had never been one of Nathaniel’s favourite underlings of his father’s. Patrick had been the one to hold him down if his father was too busy carving new cuts into his skin. 

“I hope you know what game you are playing Junior, consequences will fall on those who do not follow the Butcher.” 

The line went dead. 

_ He’s threatening my men. _

Nathaniel dropped his phone silently on the bed beside him, refusing to give into the rage and fear crawling up his limbs. Refusing to give into the satisfaction of slamming it against the wall and watching the device shatter. 

He didn’t have many people who were loyally, only his. But he had enough. And Nathaniel held his men close, and his father was never a man to threaten someone’s dog when they were going after the owner. 

_ He’s become a coward. _

He stood, not meeting Allison’s eyes as he stripped out of his clothes. Throwing the hoodie and jeans to the side, instead grabbing a black hoodie and his bullet proof vest. Black cargo pants that Allison had altered so they were more suited for his tactical needs. Usually, he was supposed to wear the clad black suits his father had given him when on missions. But given the choice Nathaniel preferred using something that was useful instead of making a statement; and tonight he would rather give Andrew the impression that Abram was a lower class criminal instead of being one of the most dangerous men in America. 

Moving swiftly as he started to pull everything on, not bothering with the bullet proof vest for now. His father would come at him with knives if he wanted to fight, he needed to be able to move easily. Andrew, was a different story. 

Allison watched him, her eyes tracking his scars as he pulled a black shirt on first. Strapping on his first knife. 

“Nate.” She said, her voice dropping to that rare soft tone she only used when she was dead serious or afraid. “Nate, I’m serious, don’t go.” 

“He’ll kill everyone who’s ever worked under me.” He replied without hesitation, not missing he flinch of surprise, “He won’t touch any of you as long as I listen. You know what to do if I don’t come back.”

“Nate!” Allison cried, “Don’t say shit like that so easily, you can’t just fucking die over this.” 

He clicked his belt into place, hesitating, before pushing his gun into its holder. He pulled the black bandana around his neck, wondering if it would be enough to keep Andrew off his back. He flicked his eyes back up to Allison. “I’m not going to die Ally. He can’t kill me over something like this, not right now. Moriyama’s are planning something and even the Butcher knows not to fuck with one of their investments.”

He pulls his gloves on, she says nothing. 

He slips the last two black daggers into their sheath on his arms, feeling more at ease with them close to his skin. 

“How long is he going to even be the Butcher for now?” She asks quietly, her blue eyes burn when they lock with Nathaniel’s, “How long do you have?”

He doesn’t answer, turning away from her and that - that is answer enough.

-

Nathaniel has been playing an act for a very long time. 

When his mother had died, it had been the turning point for him. When her hands had clutched onto his tiny body and she tried to tell him to survive no matter the cost, he had listened. So he became Nathaniel, Nathan’s prodigy son who followed loyally in his steed. He stopped resisting his lessons. He watched and listened to every bit of information they gave him. He waited, and waited until he could slowly start to unravel his father’s work. 

But he was still Nathaniel, the Butcher’s son. And when he steps into the main hall he is reminded of it yet again, when everyone takes a step away from his presence. He's never bothered trying to understand what stories were spread of him, but he knew they all thought the same thing. 

That he was his father’s second coming, that he was something worse. 

When he was younger he had leaned into the crazed fantasy. He bared his teeth to those who came to close. He flashed knives, and proved his power to those who questioned it; because he refused to be at the bottom of the hierarchy, not like before, not like when he was young. If they wanted a monster, they gave him one.

But still, he paused when the door locked behind him and Cain, the middle aged man who had picked him up, new into the crime business and an underlying for their old driver, motioned for him to follow. His old home hadn’t changed much since he was a child, it looked like every other rich, white picket fence type of house. Where the mother stays home and raises the children, and the father goes to work. Unfortunately his father’s job was chopping people into tiny pieces.

There aren't many people here. Only important ones, or others who serve his father. He scowls at the faint smell of disinfection in the air and wonders who got killed outside of the basement. Nathan was a trigger happy man, one mess up and your brain was splattered along the wall; your body already being wrapped away in black bags that were kept stocked up in the kitchen. 

“Sir Nathaniel.” A soft voice says to his side, glancing over Nathaniel finds one of his father’s maids offering him a glass of water. Her eyes do not meet his own, the small tremble in her hands is notable as the water sloshes about inside the glass she has clutched outwards. “For you.” 

He blinks, in confusion for a moment, but still reaches out to take it. If only to make her stop shaking or give her an excuse to leave. But her eyes dart up to his own for a moment and he recognizes the stare. The gaze of prey, and he knows he is the predator.

He also notices Cain easily sliding up alongside her, his eyes heavy as he scans her body with a lean smile across his lips. “Where’s mine, doll?” He asks and the maid freezes stiffly. Nathaniel's eyes flick down to her wrists, their are bruises there that look like fingers.

“I’m- sorry sir. I was only instructed to bring one to Sir Nathaniel.” Her words are meek, she’s terrified of everyone in the room. She has to be new. But it says something when the girl cowers towards Nathaniel to get away from Cain. 

Something bitter coats his tongue.

Cain leans in, “Oh that’s fine doll, you can make it up to me later.” His voice disgusting, her body is tense, her gaze turns too Nathaniel and they are pleading. There are bruises on her neck, and Cain is reaching out to skim a finger along her forearm. He does not see Nathaniel's fingers twitch towards his knife.

“Thank you.” Nathaniel snaps, he lets the warning be clear when he locks onto a new target, Cain pulls away. “What is your name? I haven’t seen you before.” He lets his voice be softer now, but not too much that makes him appear kind. 

He is of no use to her if he appears weak.

She keeps her sights on the floor, “Robin.” She says quietly. “The Butcher hired me recently.”

Nathaniel's gut twists, she's considered disposable, only a fill in, if she has to referred to his Father as the, ‘The Butcher.’

“Well Robin, Cain and I won’t bother you anymore. Thank you for the water.”

He turns to leave even when Cain starts up again, “But I’m thirsty.”

So instead Nathaniel shoves the glass towards Cain. He isn’t stupid enough to drink it anyways, he’s grown past that. 

Cain grumbles out an insult, letting the glass hit the ground and shatter. Nathaniel watches it fall, listens to the collective gasp of everyone around them. Besides Robin, the rest of the maids, servants, henchmen, ducking out of sight at the scene, “Forget how to grab something other than your own dick, Cain?” Nathaniel snarls, it is the last warning he will give him before he is turning to leave but not before spying the other over his shoulder and watches the rage flash across the his meaty features.

He looks like he wants to argue, but Nathaniel lets his dagger drop into his palm. His warning is clear. If he speaks again, Nathaniel isn’t afraid of becoming his father too, for a few moments.

“What’s your problem?” Cain says, and he is yet again reminded that Cain is painfully new and does not yet understand who he is speaking too. “You into her too? She’s a good fuck, I'll tell you that.”

Nathaniel grits his teeth, “I am not in the fashion of sleeping with children.” His voice is low, everyone with a brain would shut up; they would see the threat. The only reason this man is still breathing is because he doesn’t wish to cause more trouble with his father. 

Cain is not a smart man, he snorts. “She’s sixteen. Everyone has their ticks, come on, the Butcher’s son must have something that gets him going.”

Nathaniel for a brief moment, snaps. His knife is out and he grips the front of Cain’s shirt, driving him backwards into the wall and he places the blade tightly under his throat. Nathaniel feels a smile carve across his lips, razor sharp, as he presses the knife in enough to draw the first sight of blood. 

“Actually I do Cain.” He purrs, “It’s watching pigs bleed to death from my knife.” He pushes it tighter against the man’s throat and listens to the half hearted whimper, enjoys the thick swallow, “Gets me every time.” 

“Nathaniel.” A voice snaps behind him, and he doesn’t need to move to know it is his father. That voice will always make the hairs on his back stand up, it will always make the alarms ring in his mind. He can now feel multiple eyes on him, guards or not, he does not care. “Drop the man and come into my office, we have matters to discuss.” 

The Butcher's son does not move, but Cain does. His eyes move to meet ice blue and he manages a weak smirk, he thinks he's won. He thinks that he will be let go and he will take that girl and do as he pleases. “Go on, go talk to daddy little boy.” 

Nathaniel hates men who assume.

So Nathaniel slashes his knife tightly across his throat, his eyes not leaving Cain's as the shock registrar's for a fleeting moment, before he is dropped to the floor. The man is dead before he hits the ground. Sealthing his dagger Nathaniel turns back to his father who stands still for a moment, looking from him to the body behind him, raising an eyebrow in question. Nathaniel grins wider, he always enjoyed when he could surprise his father.

_It's your temper Dad._

“You said drop him, you never said he had to be alive.” He says slowly, before pushing past Nathan and into the bleak office. Not ignoring the fact that two guards flank his side.

Nathan sighs, “Clean this up.” He demands, before following his son. “You have a temper today, anything to do with the recent gassing of your recent mission?” 

For the first time in years, Nathaniel notes that there are guards lining the walls, their faces masked and their hands covering a gun on their hips. His father had never had this type of protection lined up at his arrival. 

He grins again at the fact, despite himself.

He still feels his knees tremble when someone moves to stand behind him.

But he clings to the madness with his bloodied fingertips, even as his father sits on his chair behind his desk and locks eyes with him. “Nathaniel, I would like an answer and if I feel like you are lying I will not hesitate to punish accordingly.”

“I thought you were an eye for an eye kind of man. Why the change?” 

Nathan narrowed his eyes, blue heat simmering under the surface, “Do not forget who is in charge here, boy. Just because you are my son, does not mean you are immune.”

Nathaniel waved his hand dismissively, he hopes the tremble in his hand wasn’t obvious, “It was only a question. Not a question of your authority.” 

Their eyes lock, he knows his father hears his thoughts;  _ yes it was.  _

“Your friend, Allison? You care for her, correct?” 

He freezes, the anxiety spiking in his gut as he imagined Allison inside, supposed to be safe. Blonde curls and the only gentle voice he had left, he imagined her scrambling to defend herself- him failing, failing someone else. Imagined her dying, just like Mom- just like-

“I was going to be compromised.” The words were out before he thought of it, the truth- because he risking it wasn’t worth losing her.

His father raises an eyebrow at that, “So soon?”

Nathaniel studies his father, he is angry yes. But his anger is nowhere near the height he had imagined if his father had discovered the children. He hesitates for only a moment, trying to decide the best route because if he lies and his father knows the truth - Allison will be dead in the next five minutes. If he lies and his father is simply baiting him.

He wins.

Nathaniel cracks his finger, good thing he’s been a liar since he was born.

“It has been longer than a month father, the threat has been dealt with and no one is suspicious of me.” He says smoothly, Nathaniel refuses to let himself be afraid of this man anymore. “Now there will be more focus on organized crime within my department. I thought the plan was to single out the traitor and kill the one who knows too much. Or has this changed?” 

Nathan stares at him for longer. Nathaniel ignores his heartbeat stuttering in his chest. He will not be afraid of this man, he will not cower at his feet like he did as a boy. He will take everything this man can teach him and use it against him. 

He will fucking destroy him.

Nathan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a sigh, “I would prefer you didn’t do something so obvious, it is in poor taste.” 

Nathaniel shrugs, biting his tongue before he says something stupid. It is too early to know if he has won.

“I also-” His father’s voice is getting colder, his control is slipping from the disinterest coming from his son, “-don’t appreciate you killing my men, this is the second time. Do not make me put you in your place” 

Nathaniel glances back to him, cocking his head to the side. The guards shift next to him uneasy as he pulls a grin back across his lips and twirls his dagger in hand. “Have you ever heard of the Bobo doll experiment, dad?” 

Nathan taps a finger against his desk in warning, “Excuse me?” 

“The Bobo doll experiment, a bunch of psychologists came together and put an adult in a room and told them to violently beat a Bobo doll and while this occured, they let some children observe.” He flashes his teeth, “Guess what the kids did, Dad?”

“Nathani-” 

He interrupts him, “They beat that doll just as hard, if not harder. Dad, they ripped that doll to fucking shreds.” He slides his dagger back into place, “If you don’t want me killing your men, don’t touch mine.”

His father raises his head, his chin jutting out at his words, “Oh?”

Nathaniel turns, but not before saying. “Robin is mine now as well, she’s too young for you dad.” He glances over his shoulder and for a moment it seems his father is amused, “Maybe try someone closer to your age.” 

The laugh is as real as sociopaths laugh can be, it’s cracked and makes his skin crawl. His eyes alight with the joy of misery, his smile mirroring the one on Nathaniel’s own.

“She was already yours, my boy. I figured you’d like someone new incase something happened to dear ol Ally. She must be getting old-” He waves his hand like he was having a normal conversation with his son, “I don’t like used things either. I’m glad you are finally understanding.” 

_ Understand why I killed your mother and made you watch, why I forced you too- _

Nathaniel slams the door behind him, the echoes of his father's laughter still ringing in his ear. 

_ Careful dad.  _ He thinks,  _ you are getting pretty used yourself. _

* * *

Andrew should have thrown away the note. 

No, Andrew should have taken the note to the Chief’s office and assembled SWAT or something- anything. Andrew should have done something more than crumple the note into his palm and shove it into his pocket. He should have done more than wait for the ambulance, more than just hand over all the information he knew. More than ignoring everyone's attempt to speak to him and throw himself into his car and drive away.

He barely half the mind to go home and change out of his uniform. Pausing, but decidingly dressed in all black. It reminded him of the old days, he thought bitterly. 

Andrew knows he’s stupid, knows he shouldn’t be driving to meet some fucked up man. But Andrew has never done rational things, according to everyone else. So he drives, and he drives, and he keeps his gun within reach. His armbands snug, and the weight of knives brings a comfort to his slamming heart. 

He parks, and glances at his clock. 

_ 11:50 _ .

He curses silently because he wanted to be earlier but this would have to do. The drive up the mountain took longer than he thought it would, he isn’t thinking properly ever since Mads got taken. 

He hasn’t let a case bother him this badly in months. He was getting better, he was figuring it out. But the clouded rage he got whenever he felt the need to protect something was still and always will be the worst and best thing about him.

Andrew was very aware that it would be his downfall.

He sits in his silence for a moment, something that used to bring a semblance of calm to his mind that flew miles a minute. A mind that never gave him a chance to breathe as perfectly recited memories are repeated over and over. But he hates it now, because his mind is solely focusing on trying to come up with a plan to get ‘Abram’ and kill him so fucking slowly he-

He needs to breathe, calm down.  _ You are not that person anymore. _

He starts moving to the mall. 

It burnt down years ago, the city planning on growing the upper region with it. But after the failure of the mall, no one bothered, it was hopeless anyways. Too many ghost stories came out of Baltimore, too many monsters laying in wait in the darkening roads. Some even say the fire was on purpose so the buyers could at least make some money back when they realized it was hopeless.

Andrew halts on the edge of the sidewalk, refusing to move in any closer when he could easily get cornered. His mind slowly started clearing for its enraged state and with each breath he was slowly realizing how foolish he was for coming here. He pulled his knife out from under his band, an old habit, he wanted to laugh at how he had thought he could leave this foolish state of self in the past.

His thoughts stopped when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Swiveling he locked on a black silhouette crouched on the roof of the mall. Surprisingly small, but he was unsure if that was because of the height and distance. A glint of something caught his eye and he watched as the black shadow raised its right hand and something glinted off the moon's reflection. They were waving to Andrew, with a knife in hand.

Anger made him return the gesture with a blade pressed to his forehead in a mocking salute.

The figure disappeared briefly and Andrew hung back from anywhere they could drop from. His eyes scanned the horizon calmly, his face already reverting to its familial state. Because he’d rather be dead than show he was anxious.

The figure stepped out of the shadowed building, moving calmly towards Andrew. Who didn’t want to think about how the stranger had moved so fast. The moon lit up the first of his features when he inched closer, out of the buildings looming structure, Andrew’s eyes locked on ice blue. Mads had been right, the blue burned so brightly they seemed fake, contacts, or  _ something.  _ Abram, this had to be him. He wore black from head to two as well, a hood pulled over his face and different straps criss crossed across his chest, and Andrew didn’t miss the knives strapped snuggly into them. A black cloth was covering most of his face, besides his eyes, not giving Andrew a good idea what he looked like but it wasn’t like he was surprised. So he watched Abram’s movement as he finally stopped, leaning back against a dead street light; resting against it, pressing his one foot onto the small surface and then, the blue eyes scanned Andrew from top to bottom before cocking his head to the side.

“Officer Andrew! You came.” He shouted, catching Andrew off guard with the accented voice that came out instead of the expected American one. He frowned, it sounded vaguely… british? 

“Abram I assume.” He said instead, that got him a quick thumbs up and Andrew notes the gloves that Mads had mentioned before. “Where’s Mads?” Andrew snaps quickly, letting his knife catch against the light and he watches with a silent delight as it causes Abram’s gaze to snap away from him for a few moments.

“Safe.” Abram says, before also pulling a black dagger off his hip, playing with it absently as if bored but Andrew can call the act out immediately. This isn’t a man who is inexperienced. This isn’t some fucked pedo who got lucky, this wasn’t some creep who hired people to do his dirty business. 

This was someone who knew what they were doing.

_ Fuck.  _ Not easy, nothing could be easy.

Andrew clenched his teeth in an attempt to control his anger, “I’ll believe that when I see her. See all of the kids actually. Do you make a habit of kidnapping over a dozen children?” 

Abram laughs, there is no humor in it. “Actually I don’t! I became a parent of thirteen overnight, it was pretty crazy.” 

His hand itches for his gun, “You said you needed my help. What? Thought you’d call up a young cop everyone says is corrupt and get a partner for your child sex ring?” 

Andrew barely manages to side step the silver knife thrown at his foot in seconds. It embeds into the grass and dirt beside him, he almost laughs in the moment because he hadn’t even seen the man adjust himself to take the shot. Andrew puts his own knife away and instead pulls out his gun, flicking the safety off. 

Abram is watching him. His eyes are burning now with an unspoken rage, Andrew levels him with a stare.

“Temperamental are you?”

“Let's make one thing clear here Officer Minyard.” Abram snarls, his hands already filled with new knives. “I got those children  _ out _ of a fucking sex ring, I know you cops see some shit so I’m sure you know how bad it is when a  _ cold hearted killer  _ is disturbed. Your lot had years to do something, years those kids had to endure torture because you couldn’t get your fucking heads out of your asses and actually figure shit out.” 

Andrew lifts his gun to aim it at Abram when he takes a step closer. Dropping his foot from the streetlight with a thud. 

“I’ve had a very poor day today and I don’t appreciate being called a fucking creep because, surprisingly, it’s one of the few things I’m not.” Abram’s voice has lost its fake cheer, he twirls one blade in his hand before adjusting his grip when Andrew moves his finger to cover the trigger. 

“You’re getting pretty defensive here, Abram.” Andrew responds cooly, “What? Do you think you are some kind of vigilante? Going against the laws and taking down the people you deem bad?”

Another laugh, bitter, this time. “Oh no.” He promises, “I’m not trying to be this town's little hero or anything. I just draw the line at killing and torturing kids. Shocking right? Just a little tiny bit of humanity in someone who makes a living from commiting crimes.” 

His hair looked black from where it peaked out from underneath his baggy hood, Andrew notices now that there is blood on his face. 

“Kidnapping kids is having humanity? Looks like I’m behind on moral codes nowadays.” 

“Ahh, but officer, who am I taking them from? A greedy bitch who loves to see them bleed?” 

“Taking them for your own needs makes you worse.” Andrew snaps before he can reign in his blinding anger.

But it seemed he had also set someone else's off now

Andrew hated the fact that he didn’t see the slight shift to Abram’s footing, he’d blame it on the drugs from earlier if he wasn’t trying to keep himself from getting gutted. Because suddenly Abram was moving faster than he could see. There was a sudden cement wall against his back, the broken ridges and cracks digging into his spine. His gun was thrown across the floor and a knife firmly pressed to his throat. 

“You cops know jack fucking shit. If you had found those kids you all would have thrown half of them into prison because of things they were forced to do. You wouldn’t bother looking for facts, you wouldn’t listen to them. All you fuckers do is take one look at them, see the blood on their hands and decide their fate. You never look any fucking closer to see if any of that blood is their  _ own _ .” Abram snarls, “No good for society, useless, born into a family of criminals, there is no hope, blood is blood. Does that sound familiar to you?”

It does, Andrew thinks, _it does, it does, it does_. 

“It does.” 

The brief look of surprise at the admission, before rage is the small window of distraction Andrew needs. He jabs his hand up before wrapping it around Abram’s hand that is holding the knife and twists. Before he is shoving a boot foot forward and slamming it into the other man’s gut.

Andrew takes the few moments Abram needs to inhale a new breath to steady himself before lunging again.

Abram is quick and recovers horrifically quicker but Andrew was prepared for that. He watches Abram already dropping into a defensive position, Andrew can tell he is used to taking more blows than giving them. Andrew has always said fuck protecting yourself and to go straight for the throat. 

It clearly hadn’t failed him… yet.

Andrew moves again, but Abram can easily douge him. His body moving swiftly away from the arching blade before hitting the butt of his knife to Andrew’s back.

Andrew isn’t horrible with knives, years and years of practice doesn’t just disappear but whoever this guy is, he has clearly had this embedded into his very muscles and Andrew’s mind is racing because he thinks he’s a moment away from figuring something out. 

_ Blue eyes and knives. _

He dodges Andrew’s next blow, and swings around to nail him in the back of the neck. Before Andrew goes down, his mind exploding into a blinding white, he manages to twist his body and lets one of his knives sink into Abram’s back. Knowing it is deep by the blood that soaks instantly into the black hoodie he wears. 

Andrew is dizzy as he tries to catch his footing on the oncoming ground and listens to the distant yet sharp inhale of the man beside him. 

“Oh, I forgot the vest.” Abram sighs meekly to himself before hissing, “And that’s gonna need stitches thanks a lot.”

He manages to blink away the blurring in his eyes to see the other man a few meters away. Who is currently scowling, and twisting himself in awkward angles to proad at his wound. Andrew watches with a sick fascination as the anger is gone from the once tense body, blue eyes jumping to meet hazel. 

They still burn though.

“Look, Andrew. I’m not here to fight.” Abram says after a few moments, neither moving away from their sides but neither moving for their weapons either.

“Oh really? Sorry missed that memo when you body slammed me into the fucking wall.”

Abram winces, “Yeah, sorry, I meant it when I said I didn’t have a great day.” 

“I’d send my condolences but I’m fresh out of them, you know, after I got gassed.” Andrew hisses, rotating his head as a throbbing headache takes its place. “And had a little girl kidnapped from right under my nose.” 

“That’s your own fault.” Abram snaps, “And I promised the kids I would talk to all of them before I made any major decisions, but you’ve forced my hand.” He hesitates for a moment, “And other things now too.” 

“What?” Andrew demands, Abram suddenly won’t meet his eyes. His body becomes rigid slowly and Andrew realizes he’s been favoring his left side. 

“I need your help.” 

Andrew watches, watches and hates again when he realizes that he’s curious. “Why mine?” 

A loud swallow, thick with something akin to fear. “I’m running out of time and supplies to watch these kids and I promised them okay? I promised I’d figure something out but-” 

“Call the police, get the kids to actual help instead of holding them captive.” Andrew cuts in, letting the anger slip into his tone, he could care less what this low life fuck thinks of him now. He can know Andrew has emotions for fucking children at least, “And why ask me? Who says I won’t report you the moment I leave? You think that mask is enough to cover your identity?” 

Anger, he thinks, desperation too, leaks into the weirdly accented voice. His eyes are wild from what Andrew can see and for a moment he can get why Mads actually felt like this was a good man. 

Fortunately, Andrew knows better. 

“Because they are fucking kids! They deserve a fucking chance alright? You met Mads, the girl has a heart of gold and yet her father decided that selling drugs for a crazy woman would be a good idea. That is was more important than protecting his daughter, used his daughter as fucking _payment_ to get out debt with the woman.” Abram then says a few words that Andrew was not expecting, “You’re the only fucking cop in this town who might actually do the right thing instead of the legal thing.” 

Andrew freezes, the cold feeling of ice starts to spread across his body. “That’s a large assumption.” He warns. 

“I’ve seen you, I’ve heard about you, okay? You were never supposed to be an officer because you had a criminal record before- you get them.” Abram points his finger behind himself half heartedly, “You’ve turned a blind eye to shit that a cop who strives to upkeep the law, wouldn’t have.”

Andrew wants to deny it, he wants to throw his knife into the other man’s throat and watch him bleed to death on these very pavements. But he can’t get the judges look of disgust when he was just protecting his cousin, the word monster because he held his end of the promise. They called him a monster and violent, but never questioned why. How many times people failed him, how many times had they turned their back-

His finger twitches, when Abram takes a step closer, “I’m not asking you to become a corrupt cop, I’m asking you to at least help me figure out the best route for these kids. You have access to things I don’t. I promise you that I am really fucking running out of ideas if I came running to a cop for help.” 

Andrew raises his head, “Who are you?”

Abram freezes, but he still meets Andrew’s stare, if he wasn’t wearing a mask, he thinks he might be smiling. But Andrew can’t make out enough of his features under the night sky. Still when he laughs, it feels oddly familiar.

“Someone who’s in way over his fucking head.”

* * *

**_[listen to the spotify playlist here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tGVG8DYcga1vSmnvXj5j6?si=uCI-obiMREKFBPAv4RarSw) _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fjfngf;aNFGNRAGBR;, another chapter, I swear, I swear. thank you so much for all of your comments! like I can't stop reading them gah, thank you so so much!!
> 
> also a lot of the legal experience is from what I saw with my older brother when he was alive, they were shit to him because he struggled with drugs so I kind of pulled from that. I'm sorry if it seems off? The legal system is messy is what I'm trying to say.
> 
> thank you for reading :)


	6. Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abram is a man with many secrets. So is Neil Josten.
> 
> Andrew Minyard intends to figure both of them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings; referenced childhood abuse/assault, blood and bodily harm mentions, implied animal cruelty
> 
> here she is, I'm sorry it took so long. I was being lazy for editing :,(
> 
> chapter song title; 'Two Evils' by Bastille
> 
> spotify playlist; "https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tGVG8DYcga1vSmnvXj5j6?si=FNlszht7T3int2C4VGcbPA"

Andrew is not a stupid man. Nathaniel is almost painfully aware of this now, his eyes tracking the blonde while he is aware of being watched himself. He’s playing a dangerous game right now, his identity is already dancing on a very, very, thin thread. All it would take would be Andrew having a fleeting thought or have Nathaniel trip up, and make Neil mesh with Abram too closely. 

Everything would blow up in his face. 

Nathaniel knows this, Nathaniel understands this. But for some reason he still showed up tonight, and is still leading Andrew directly to the one spot he had been safeguarding for the past month with his life. 

Nathaniel is running out of time, he has been on a countdown since he was born. But bringing Andrew with him, risking everything, is only making the clock tick faster. He still has to find that traitor at the precinct, he still has to follow his father’s orders. He still has to kill him. He still has to betray the trust him and Andrew had been carefully creating over the passing weeks.

But he can’t do it.

He can’t, not yet. 

Andrew is dressed in black, his gun still in hand and a bullet proof vest under his hoodie. Nathaniel does evy his forward thinking because he can feel the blood seeping into his own clothes, his earlier wound stinging with every shift of the fabric. The pain is nothing, really, muted. Nathaniel has fired a gun with a shattered arm - the recoil making it impossible for him to even twitch a finger afterwards. He has experienced worse. But still, he’d have to get his new wound tended to when they got back to the warehouse, Nathaniel wasn’t sure how he was going to pull that off.

Andrew is a silent wall next to him when they finally reach the top of the hill that leads down to the three rows of warehouses. Rows and rows of identical, white, shacks. Originally used in local drug trades until Nathaniel was forced to shut them down because it was interfering with his Father’s own business. 

Raising one hand, he points two fingers up to the black sky. Signalling his guard off from blowing both him and Andrew sky high, the brief flash of light in response, confirms they’re fine to move on.

“Fancy.” Andrew says blandly to his left, “Hand signals and everything.” 

“Mmhm.” Nathaniel responds, motioning for the other to follow, “Do me a favour though and take the cop act and kindly shove it up your ass when you meet the kids, most aren’t fans of the local law enforcers.”

Andrew raises a single eyebrow at that, “Oh, taught from their lovely leader I presume.” 

“Nope, I have nothing against you lot. As long as you don’t fuck up my shit, we’re usually cool.” 

“Oh right sorry.” Andrew said dryly, “I’ll keep that in mind if we ever meet in a shootout.”

Nathaniel shot him a grin, faltering for a moment when he knew Andrew couldn’t see it, “That’s the idea.” 

It felt eerily familiar to be talking like this. Nathaniel couldn’t afford to play this game because if he does they definitely were going to be in trouble. Andrew was a stranger to Abram. Still, he pulled up short to one of the warehouses. Nathaniel hesitated for a moment because he knew he was taking a massive risk bringing Andrew here, but at least deep down, he hoped that if Andrew did turn around and call for backup. He would at least fight for the kids safety. 

“Either shoot me or open the fucking door.” Andrew snapped, his eyes trained on Nathaniel’s black clad figure that he kept making sure to keep out of Andrew’s direct line of sight. The shadows aided him and more coverage though he logicall knew all Andrew could see were blue eyes. He sighs, tugging the black mask up slightly on his face and wishing he hadn’t broken his set of goggles Allison had made so many years ago. 

“Tempted to shoot you honestly.” He grumbled, tapping the door in rapid succession nine times. It echoed faintly amongst the otherwise empty lot, as did Andrew shifting on his feet and clicking the safety off on his gun. 

A faint click sounded from inside, and the door started rolling up. Revealing, rows of mattresses, blankets and pillows shoved in one corner, food wrappers, that made Nathaniel frown because he could have sworn he had cleaned up before he left, and a dozen or so adolescents spread amongst the chaos. Some were curled up on themselves in the corner, sleeping, their biological clocks less fucked up than their counterparts. The others, who were wide awake, were talking in clusters.

Nathaniel’s men, only the ones he trusted as deeply as someone like him could, were plastered against the walls. Some even talked with the kids, taking care of the youngers. From the slight inhale from Andrew it seemed the sight put him off, Nathaniel couldn’t quite blame him. Seeing a gang of mafia members attempting at being soft with children as small as some of their legs.

Nathaniel, out of habit, seeked out Allison. Finding her pressed against the side door with her arms crossed. Nathaniel had requested that all of his people wore something to cover their identities and Allison opted to wear a vibrant pink wig paired with a sparkly white mask. 

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at the sight. 

“You weren’t lying.” Andrew says beside him, his gun lowered (thank god) and his face still impassive as always except for something simmering under the surface. His eyes scanned the groups in front of them, watching how the younger kids barely glanced up at Andrew’s entrance before brushing it off. Others, mostly the teens had paused what they had been doing and were staring, eyes narrowing in distrust.

“Not something people usually lie about.”

Andrew began to frown until a small voice had caught his attention.

“Abram?” 

Both of them snapped their heads in the direction of the tiny voice of Mads as she got up from where she was sitting with Charles. Her stuffed dog that was falling apart at the seams, shoved under her arm, making her appear her age for once. “You met Andrew.”

“Unfortunately.” He said as she made her way over. Distantly he felt an ache start in his chest again, Nathaniel had never thought himself as protective because for most his life he had nothing to protect. But it seemed that now every year the gut feeling grew sharper and stronger and impossible to ignore. Nathaniel wanted to do good - he wanted to save these kids.

“Mads, are you okay.” Andrew said, not bothering to hide the concern that laced his tone, his hazel eyes quickly scanning the girl for injuries but came up empty. 

_ Obviously.  _

“I’m okay!” Mads grinned, her smile firmer now since Charles had brought her back. “But Abram does have something to say to you though.” The girl promised, reaching up a small hand and curled it around Nathaniel’s gloved one, giving it a tug to turn him towards Andrew. “Right, Abram?”

He huffed, annoyed, but still didn’t pull his hand away. “I’m sorry I gassed your precinct earlier, I didn’t mean to make a rude first impression.” 

Mads beamed. Andrew scrowled. 

“Papa always taught me that manners were important.” She explained. Again Nathaniel was reminded how young Mads was, no matter how old her eyes seemed when she woke from her nightmares screaming. 

Andrew cleared his throat obnoxiously, “Yes that’s good. It is also good that you can reject someone’s apology like I’m going to do right now. Dear Abram, apology not accepted.”

Andrew met his eyes again when he spoke and Abram’s heart stuttered. The feeling was unfamiliar, and he couldn’t figure out if it was because one wrong move and all of his dirty secrets would be revealed or because he was seeing Andrew in  _ his  _ world. 

“Aye, Abram, who’s the new guy.” Someone shouted from the back, one of the teens apparently getting tired of waiting for explanation. It seemed they weren’t the only one because not long after a chorus of other questions began. 

Milly, a thirteen year old girl who had enough snark to send Abram to an early grave joined in with a: “Yeah, I didn’t realize it was possible for you to make friends.” 

Apparently six weeks brought some life back into some of them. That was the thing about youth, somehow they managed to bounce back - some of them. Tasting freedom again brought hope into their smiles, into their words, into their actions.

Nathaniel let himself sigh, “Thank you again Milly, for that, my ego is already in shambles.”

Andrew is staring at him. He can feel it prickling into his skin, so he clears his throat and waves a hand out to Andrew. “This is-” He pauses, glancing over to the blond, not knowing if he wanted him to use his actual name or not but he was met back with an unwavering gaze so he took that as his answer.

“This is Andrew. I need help, as you kids know, we need to get a better food source as well as a water source, while we also start focusing on some of your guys’ hygine because it fucking stinks in here. This is difficult because the cops are gonna be coming down hard on us now. Andrew here, can help us with that.” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting to a group of people staring at him, giving him trust he didn’t deserve. “I’m going to offer something, and you can think about it if you want; but if any of you are wanting to go through the legal system and go to the police, this is your chance.” 

Instantly shouts of disapproval start and Nathaniel has to raise up a patient hand to make them calm down. He doesn’t miss the way Mads tightens her hold on his other hand. 

“I’m not saying you have too, you idiots,” he cuts back in. “The entire reason you all are still here is because of that, I’m not turning my back on any of you. But this is an option I’m not going to take away, Andrew is an officer-” 

Another uproar at that, but this time the fear is leaking into their voices and Nathaniel shoots a glance over to his partner. His face is carefully blank, but he’s put his gun away slowly behind his back and doesn’t speak at the onslaught of insults.

“Chill the fuck out you idiots.” Nathaniel snaps, “You know I wouldn’t bring someone around if I thought they were a danger to you. Andrew is like all of you, that’s why he’s offering to go behind the back of his superiors to be here.”

“-I’m going behind the back of the law.” Andrew mutters under his breath before folding his arm across his chest. 

“We have someone from the inside on our side right now, okay? This makes us safer and stable. Andrew and I will be working on finding an option for all of you that ensures you’re all safe, no one will fuck you over again.” The kids fall quiet one by one, some still eyeing Andrew, others anxiously fiddling with their fingers or staring at the ground. “I promised you lot, okay? Andrew knows patrols and knows what the cops know, we’re gonna figure this out.

No speaks for a few moments, but a quiet voice says in the mass of everyone pipes up. He isn’t even sure who it is.

“But what if we want to stay with you, Abram?” 

He blinks, “Why would you..? Guys I can’t even offer you all a shower, let alone a stable life.”

“We can work for you?” That’s Killian, red hair, sixteen - never talks, until now.

“No, no, no way in hell. You guys are getting the fuck out of this shitty ass life and that’s the end of it. Period.” 

People start to protest, he doesn’t understand why. He feels sick.

“Guys, stop.” He says again, he takes a wobbly step forward and he realizes he’s shaking. “Go back to what you were doing.”

He hears more voices but it fades into background noise when his vision starts to blur slightly. Giving him pause, he stretches his hands out and flexes them in front of his vision, seeing the slight tremble in his fingers. Andrew is watching him again, and Nathaniel can’t figure out what he’s thinking because his head is suddenly feeling very light.

_ Why am I at work?  _ He blinks,  _ no, not work. I’m not Neil right now, I’m- _

He stares down at his black clad palms,  _ Abram,  _ and looks back up, ignoring the concerned glances he’s getting from everyone. 

He takes a step forward again, meaning to go and hide. But instead he motions at Charles, who's moving quickly to his side. The tall man leans down as Nathaniel grips his shoulder, his brain spinning as he manages to grit out.

“Watch Andrew, you and Allison. Make sure he isn’t- he...I think I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Na- Abram? What?” 

But the world is shifting grey and Nathaniel realizes in a fleeting moment, when he meets hazel eyes, that he forgot about the stab wound on his back. 

“Rookie move.” He mumbles to himself before hitting the floor.

* * *

Andrew Minyard is a man who has seen many things, but seeing a lowlife criminal take care of thirteen children when he himself doesn’t look to be much older than twenty, is not something he thought he would add to the list.

Andrew had come with the ghost known as Abram because he didn’t care if he died, he wasn’t going to fail another kid. Not again. So he followed a man carrying countless weapons into unfamiliar territory. He watched him comand people out of sight with a flick of a finger, not something unfamiliar to him then, he notes. 

He watched thirteen pairs of eyes turn and stare when that door opened and Andrew got it now. 

Abram was their saviour. Their hero who had taken them out of hell and gave them something that - compared to what they had before, felt like heaven. 

Andrew knew the feeling. Remembered cruel hands, wicked words and a never ending ache for a warmth that he would never get, and suddenly there she was. Cass with a gentle smile and a kinder voice that never made him flinch or jump when she called for him. A saviour - a hero. 

But there was always a catch.

Andrew was still trying to figure out what the catch was. 

But he did know, without a doubt now, that the group of misfits cared enough about their leader that the moment he collapsed, their eyes all turned to Andrew. 

If it wasn’t for the pink hair chick, Andrew figured he would have been ripped to shreds by untrusting eyes and grudges that probably ran bone deep. 

“Go back to whatever you rats were doing before, we got some things to sort out now alright?” She waved her hands in a shoo motion while stepping in front of Andrew, who still refused to reach for his gun. 

_ Idiot, idiot, you need to get out of here. Call for backup, you know where the kids are, you- _

“What’s wrong with Abram?” The soft voice of Mads catching him off guard, “Is he okay?”

The large man hovering over Abram’s unconscious form, looked up, a forced smile stretched across his lips as he nodded, “Oh yeah Mads no worries at all.” He patted the top of Abram’s hooded head, “I’ll just take him to the back.” Before scoping the smaller man up like he weighed nothing. His hood shifted and Andrew couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued on him, trying to catch sight of his hair colour but he was soon whisked out of sight.

Pinky sighed, “It’s just Abram being an idiot, go back with the other rats.” 

Mads hesitated and she glanced over at Andrew for a moment, who gave a stiff nod because she would probably be safer with the other kids for now. 

“Alright chap, where’d you hit him.” Pinky asked, turning to face him. Her starck white mask was off putting, not only because of its sparkly appearance, but at the fact they were needed. He wondered if he had ever passed these people on the streets when going to the store, or driven past them. 

Still he didn’t bother sugar coating his words, “His back, with a knife. I’m surprised he didn’t go down sooner, it was deep enough.” 

Pinky didn’t seem bothered by this, “What about you?”

“What?” 

“Do you have any wounds I should be aware about?” 

Andrew felt his lip flick downwards, “I’ll be fine.” 

“You better not be lying to me because Abram will kill me if something happens to you when he’s out.” Pinky grumbles, her voice muffled by the mask making Andrew believe that he might have misheard. 

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe Pinky is good at reading people or the concussion that he definitely has is getting to him but she laughs. 

“Oh, Abram has a soft spot for people like you.” She shakes her head, “Guess you caught his attention.” 

Andrew doesn’t respond, and Pinky doesn’t say anything else. She just stands beside him, as they watch the others interact and Andrew tries to calm his racing heart. Trying to silence the anxiety that's curling around his ankles like a snake and trying not to wish that Neil was with him. But he can’t help the fact that Neil’s sharp tongue and knife sharp grin help settle something in him. Can’t help that Neil has an, admittedly, nice face to look at, and has a puzzle about him that Andrew is slowly solving every moment.

He wonders what Neil would say about what he was doing. He thinks that Neil would come with him, that Neil wouldn’t hesitate to break the law. The only reason he follows it is because he is bound too with eyes watching him too closely, Andrew gets it. He almost wants to phone Neil, and ask him. Ask him to come, because than he’d have a backup and wouldn’t feel as stupid as he does now but he quickly pushes the thought away. Neil didn’t need to get mixed up in shit like this when he was trying to leave his past behind, leave the person he was before Baltimore behind. 

Andrew just didn’t understand why he couldn’t seem to do the same. 

-

Abram wakes up in ten minutes, the small gleam of skin Andrew can see is a pasty white, his blue eyes duller than usual. Even still, he moves with a certain grace when his eyes lock on Andrew, standing off to the side while most kids start falling into their beds. Everyone except Mads, who is sitting and telling Andrew stories of her most recent adventures and he has to hand it to Abram. The man at least has figured out a creative array of things to keep the others entertained. 

“So this is Scooby,” The young girl says, holding up a beaten to hell stuffed dog. Its head lolled concerningly to the side, the pasty yellow fur had turned a dark brown from dirt and other substances. “He’s the only thing I have left from my old life before Papa and before I went to the red lady.” 

“I see.” 

Mads gave him a toothy grin, the shadows around her eyes he had seen before were gone, her posture laxs and she had a half eaten apple in the other hand. She kept blabbering onwards about her friend Emily that she promised to introduce him too once she was awake and the time Abram had brought this board game called monopoly and had to come back multiple times telling everyone to quiet down because they could be heard yelling across the yard.

“Yes, it was quite shocking.” The thick accented voice of Abram said from behind Andrew, who tensed when he realized he hadn’t even noticed the man had walked up to them. “You twerps are really trying to send me to an early grave.”

He said it as a joke, but when Andrew looked at his eyes, he had a feeling that it was true. Andrew wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

Mads giggled, scotching closer to Abram, “I was just telling Andrew about everything we’ve done, you should invite him to game night.” 

Blue eyes darted quickly over to his own, Andrew raised an eyebrow in lull of a response because he wasn’t going to show up to game night - that would be a risky move, but again, when he glanced around the room, he thought, everything he was doing was a risky move. 

“We’ll see Mads.” Abram said, far too softly for a man who had wielded a knife like a second arm only hours before. He patted the girl’s long black hair before nodding his head towards the doors. “Andrew and I have to talk now though, I’ll see you later?” 

A frown tugged on Mads’ face, her hand reaching up to catch Abram’s gloved one. “Are you okay?” She asked suddenly, “When you collapsed it scared me.” 

“Oh.” Again, with the shocked look in the man’s eyes at someone asking a simple question of ‘are you okay.’ “Yes, Mads I’m fine, just had a little scuffle before coming here.”

Her frown deepened, “Was your daddy mean again?” 

This caused Abram to freeze, his head whipping around to look at Mads. Andrew shuffled beside her and raised both eyebrows at that.  _ Who’s daddy? _

“Who told you about my dad?” Abram asked, his voice suddenly very, very, quick. Blue eyes shimmering back to life.

Mads shrugged, clearly not knowing what she had triggered in Abram, “I overheard the lady with the pink hair talking about it with Charles. She said that your daddy kept hurting you?”

Abram leant down slowly, grasping onto Mads shoulder and started shaking his head, “No, Mads, I’m okay. I can handle him so don’t worry about me okay? Just promise me not to talk about this with other people, okay? And if you hear something about my dad come tell me, okay?” 

Mads nodded, hesitantly but she still laughed when Abram reached up and messed her hair up before standing. His eyes only flicked over to Andrew’s for a moment before walking away towards the door, he made a subtle hand movement that Andrew would have missed if he hadn’t been looking down. 

He noticed the large man, Charles, started moving again, leaving the room out of a door for a few moments. Andrew lip twitched into a frown, until Charles came back in and gave a massive thumbs up in Abram’s direction. 

“Can never follow fucking protocall.” Abram muttered, shaking his head but still, pushing the large door up and knelt under it. 

They didn’t stop moving once outside, so Andrew followed silently, but did reach behind himself to take his gun out again. 

“Have I really not proved I mean no harm to you.” Abram says, but he doesn’t sound surprised. It isn’t like the man hadn’t also pulled a dagger out and was now aimlessly fiddling with it as they walked. 

Andrew said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow at the other.

Abram snorted faintly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough I guess.” 

Once they reach the top of the hill that overlooks the yard, Abram stops and fishes something out of his pocket in the front of his black hoodie. He passes it to Andrew who isn’t surprised to find it’s a piece of paper with a date and another time.

“We meet at the same place, same time, on those days.” He says evenly, crossing his arms as and leans against a tree. The distance and shadows yet again making it impossible to pick out any details. “I’ll find a better way for communicating but this is the best I can do for now.”

Andrew resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Who says I’m still agreeing.”

Abram sighed in exasperation, it seemed Andrew had a tendency to do that to the people around him, “Are you willing to help me, yes or no? It really isn’t that hard.” 

Andrew examines the paper in front of him. “A deal,” he suggests.

“Of what kind?” 

“I do this, I use what I know to keep you and the kids out of jail for  _ now.  _ I help you make sure they don’t die before you find a permanent place for them. In return, you don’t touch my squad again and you keep yourself out of other illegal activities, I’m sure you get up too.” 

It was a deal he was aware was swayed completely in Abram’s favour, but still, the pause that set between them would make you think otherwise. 

Finally Abram spoke, “I can promise you I won’t harm or mess with your partners, but I can only promise that I will do my best to stay out of other ‘illegal activities’ as you said.”

Andrew hesitated for only a moment before he gave him a stiff nod, trying to bite back the argument that sits on his tongue. He knows logically, that this is the best he is going to get.

“Fine, but I have a question though.” He says before Abram can start talking again, “What’s that thing Mads said about this father of yours? Is he actually your father?”

The man in front of him is silent for a few moments, and Andrew wonders if he’s going to get a bullshit answer or not.

“He-” Abram starts, “He is my real father, technically. But everyone has a little dash of daddy issues, am I right?”

That earns him a leveled look of boredom and annoyance, “I’m not in any interest of doing business with someone with lies to me.” Andrew says evenly, “Will this man be an issue?”

A small curse is muttered under the black mask, a sharp shake of his head and Abram clutches the dagger closer to himself, “Not if I can help it.”

Andrew sighed internally, that didn’t sound promising. But at least he didn’t feel like the other was lying to him. Abram’s fear was obvious from where he stood, and it almost made Andrew laugh, it seemed even the men who lurked in the shadows had their own monsters. 

“Would I be aware of who this man is?” He goes for instead and that earns him a harsh swallow.

“He’s unimportant to what we are doing.” 

“Alright.”

Silence follows, Andrew isn’t willing to walk away just yet. Not with a million questions still milling on his mind, not with the indecision of if he should fill the man in front of him full of bullets.

Abram is watching him, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he speaks again, “If you are thinking about betraying us, I will know, do not make the mistake of thinking I will not.” 

It’s a threat, Andrew knows this. He can see the criminal that he had originally managed to conjure up when he realized that he wasn’t your usual child predator he had figured he would be when first meeting Mads. Abram’s eyes are dark, a striking contrast to what they were earlier around the children, his hands have paused and he holds the dagger with ease. Black metal, sleek and sharp, well taken care of. Abram moves it like a third arm. 

Their eyes meet and Andrew has never felt the need to cower to anyone in a very long time, and that does not change when he meets the burning blues, but he does find something else.

“I would be throwing my ass on the line, though if I had a better idea than what you suggested you would already be in prison.” 

It is the closet he can come to saying, ‘don’t worry’ that a man like himself can come.

Abram eyes lighten only slightly, he cocks his head to the side, “That is reassuring.” 

“Low standards I see.”

Silence returns again, Andrew finds he doesn’t hate it as much this time.

Of course Abram is the one to break it again, “Yeah, well - you should probably get going?”

Andrew blinked, before looking down at his watch. It was 2am and he already felt the long day ahead of him weighing on his bones. 

That’s probably as good as Andrew was going to get right now anyways so he finally gave into the screaming of his bones and the itch curling under his skin and started to back away from Abram and the motionless warehouses in the distance. Now, if he was a good officer, he would start calling for backup and get the kids out - 

“Thanks, I guess?” Abram says suddenly, also moving away but that doesn’t stop him from adding something else over his shoulder. “Drive safe.” 

Oh, Andrew  _ hates _ this guy. 

Andrew does nothing less of storming away, his mind already racing. He could talk to Renee, or maybe call Neil for advice? Would Neil even have any expierence with this, because Andrew doesn’t have a fucking clue if this lands under ‘gangs and youth’ category of their work.

But when Andrew gets to his car and slides his key into the ignition with shaking hands. He knows he isn’t going to be making the call. Because he can’t stop hearing the trembling fear in those kids' words, in their eyes, with even the idea of the police showing consuming them. Of taking them away for something - something so stupid. He can’t trust the legal system to not strip them apart for who they were.

Suddenly he’s seventeen again, and someone is screaming, there is blood dripping from his split fists and his vision is red. Nicky is motionless on the ground, clumps of his hair ripped from his skull, his finger sticking out at the wrong angle. 

People are pointing, people are looking at him like he’s the one who beat up an innocent kid for his sexuality. He doesn’t care about the man underneath him groaning in pain, he is the one that should be suffering - how dare he touches what isn’t his - how  _ fucking dare he- _

Red and blue lights, handcuffs, and a drug that shattered the last remaining parts of his mind are what follows after he brings his fist down again.

He’s twenty, he’s shaking, he’s forced to speak about things he never wanted to speak out loud. His brother, sickly pale, and Drake. His face still bruised and swollen from the desperate hits Aaron landed on him. 

He’s twenty when he is filled with hate, sick shame and humiliation, when the sound of handcuffs clicking around his brother’s wrists echo in the courtroom and Drake walks out, free.

No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t trust them with this.

Andrew turns on the car - for once letting himself slip back into his old thinking, 

_ This isn’t a job for the pigs. _

* * *

“Morning!” Neil says, sliding into Andrew’s black car in the bleak sunrise. Taking the coffee he’s offered, indulging in the warm heat, murmuring a quick thank you.

Andrew looks tense today, his grip is tight on the steering wheel and his eyes carrying a haze that was becoming familiar. Neil did not like it, it seemed like Andrew was having a bad day today and he wasn’t sure how he could help. 

Two weeks have passed since Andrew had decided to make a fragile alliance with Abram and already Neil’s anxiety was skating on thin ice. Not that Abram and Andrew spent a lot of time together face to face, but even still, the burner phone he had picked up for both of them, seemingly burned a hole into his pocket. The only good thing to come of the deal was the new influx of food and Andrew’s persistence to find somewhere for the kids to actually shower. And maybe the fact Andrew always got this look to him whenever he was with Abram. It was different from the work Andrew he grew to know in the day, at night he seamlessly fit in with criminals alike. 

He could only hope that he would figure out what to do with the kids before it became too late and his father started getting suspicious to where Neil was running off to all the time.

Neil sipped at the steaming cup of coffee in hand and instantly wrinkled his nose; the sweetness hitting him head on this early in the morning. “Ew what the fuck.” He pulled his cup away and examined it, “What is this?”

Andrew, for a man who rarely showed any emotion on his face, almost looked amused. “It’s coffee.” 

“This,” Neil interjected gesturing to the cup, “Is the farthest thing from coffee, what kind is it even?”

“It’s the drinkable kind.” 

“Drin- Andrew this tastes like I’m going to wake up with ten new diseases!”

Andrew rolls his eyes, “It’s the only way to drink coffee, Josten.”

“I drink coffee black, Andrew! That is the closest thing you can come to eating actual fucking coffee beans!”

Andrew apparently didn’t agree, rolling his eyes at Neil as he placed his hand behind Neil’s chair and glanced over his shoulder when moving the car into reverse, “Yeah, whatever. It’s fucking gross.” He states before he pulls the car out of the driveway and they start driving to the precinct. 

Neil wasn’t sure when this happened. Somehow, Andrew had found out that Neil had been running to work every morning which honestly wasn’t too hard for him. Neil had enjoyed his morning runs, even if it took him a measurable amount of time to actually make it to work (and home for that matter). But if push came to shove he could always just call Allison, or even Charles to come get him. He hadn’t been allowed behind the wheel majority of the time growing up- that was always someone else's job, so Neil didn’t see the need to change. 

But apparently it made Andrew mad. Weird things made Andrew mad though, like when he sat cross legged on his chair, or when he chewed on the end of his pen, and more recently when he wore the jeans that Allison had forced him to buy. Neil used it as proof that they were ugly but she had only laughed in his face. So, he learned to just go with it, probably pushing things farther than he needed too with it but still, he didn’t have it in him to care. There was a significant difference between angry Andrew, and  _ angry  _ Andrew. 

So Neil liked fucking with  _ angry  _ Andrew. 

Alas, ever since that day, Andrew had found out his address (creepy) and showed up at his house before Neil could sneak out and make a break for it. 

Logically he knew if he really wanted too he could get away, but sometimes the morning drive was nice with Andrew. Even if Andrew’s eyes had returned to their hazy look, or how his movements were stiffer than usual. The laxs humor from earlier was gone again and Neil found himself wishing for it back, at least it was a sign Andrew was still there, in the present, instead of his mind.

Neil was familiar with the demons that hounded your mind, no matter your own rational thoughts, they tore you apart until there was only a fragment left. 

So Neil gave Andrew space, and didn’t push. But he made sure Andrew saw the concerned eye so he knew Neil was safe, and if he needed it, he would do whatever Andrew needed. 

They moved into the precinct together. Andrew led the change and openly ignored all the greetings tossed in their direction, including Renee’s, which made most of the group quiet down. Maybe guessing that it wasn’t a battle they were going to win, or even, Neil wondered, if they knew something he didn’t. For whatever reason he felt a small stab of annoyance at that. 

Maybe not annoyance… but something. 

He pulled his chair out, before plopping down on it and moving for a case file on his desk. He hadn’t noticed Andrew’s sudden intense gaze or his outstretched fingers, meaning to grab the file away from him. Flipping it open Neil felt his breath hiss out of him.

Auburn hair and blue eyes, a wicked smile and cracked lips. A face Neil knew too well. 

He dropped the papers like he had been burned, not caring that Andrew was looking at him with something like curiosity and Neil was giving a piece of himself away that was too large. This, this was too close to the truth - this wasn’t something he could afford to do. 

But  _ fuck.  _ No one knew, no one but maybe Allison knew, that Nathaniel had to sit on the floor of his room. Had to dig his fingers into his hair and force the screaming in his chest to become silent, would have to mentally tie his legs together to stop them from running. Had claw at his arms, had to claw at his mind to bring the cold numbness forward so he could stand in front of his father and not tremble. Not remember the knives against his skin, not remember the screaming of those his father made him hurt - made him kill. Nathaniel was a coward, and he spent his entire life trying to hide the fact that his father’s face made him crumble like the paper man he was.

He didn’t - he couldn’t breath. Seeing his father, seeing him in a place where his defenses had been down. 

He didn’t think it would hit this hard. 

_ Hide.  _ His mind hissed, his body falling back to childhood instincts.

Neil was moving to his feet, his body buzzing, the world static and his mother was screaming- oh god his mother. 

Her bloodied hand was outstretched, her eyes wild with terror and she begged.

_ “Not my baby boy, not him. Don’t touch my baby boy.”  _

He thought that he screamed for her too. That he had reached out his hand, had tried to crawl to her but there was too much blood on the floor. He kept slipping, his grip too loose, his body too young. 

The world tilted and the scene in front of him changed.

_ “Stop making him into a fucking monster Nathan, what the fuck are you doing?”  _

He is even younger now, his head laid along the kitchen floor. He reached a hand out to pet the dog beside him, the white fur soft under his fingers. 

_ “Kill it, Nathaniel.”  _ There is a knife in his hands, he is giving it to him. Nathaniel blinks up in confusion. 

_ “Why? He’s my friend.”  _ He liked the soft white dog, who gave him licks on his face when he was sad.  _ “I don’t want to hurt my friend.”  _

But the knife was already in his hands.

Nathaniel never did remember what happened to that dog in the end.

Shift - another one.

_ “Nathaniel, listen to me, listen honey, I need you to promise me something.”  _ His mother never asked for much, Nathaniel can’t seem to find where she was bleeding from, too many cuts, too many cuts, too many cuts-

_ “Don’t become him.”  _ Her hands curl around his face, or her hand, Nathaniel can’t find the other one, he cut it off, he cut it off, he cut it off-  _ “Don’t be like him, you are good Abram, you are so good. I promise you, I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out. But you can, you will, get out Abram. Be a good man.”  _

He hears his father footsteps as he moves closer. 

_ “I’ll kill him.”  _ He thinks he told her,  _ “I’ll rip him apart.”  _

_ “Not yet.”  _ She tells her son _ , “Not yet, for now you do as you’re told.”  _

_ “Why.”  _ He snarls, he can only see red, he can only feel his mother’s weakening grasp on his face. His father steps into the room, he is smiling.

_ “Do as Daddy tells you, he’ll be nicer if you do.”  _

His father hands him a knife, he stands before him and he grins wider, so wide his lips crack. 

_ “Kill it, Nathaniel.” _ He tells his son.

He can’t move, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

_ “Do as you’re told Abram.” _ His mother tells him.

Nathaniel never did remember what happened to his mother in the end.

_ “Neil.”  _ Another voice starts and Nathaniel frowns, he can’t remember who is important to this name. What demon could possible be waiting-

“Neil, you need to breathe.” The voice is more consistent this time, his father’s grin is fading quicker now. There is a heavy hand on the back of his neck, it rattles him that it isn’t there seeking to hurt him. His hands are moving outwards, searching to grab or defend. 

Another hand comes up and wraps around Neil’s own. Black sleeves shock him into breathing again; the first touch of air brushes past him and he realizes he’s outside. Pavement digging into his knees and a chilly breeze wrapping around his already trembling shoulders, a gentle tap on the back of his head has him looking up and meeting hazel eyes. 

Neil didn’t realize he was leaning so heavily on Andrew until the realization that he was the one beside him who made his demons disappear into the hazy gripps of his mind.

“Andrew.” He sighs, sagging his shoulders and giving way to collapse completely into the ground. Running a head through his sweating hair, his hands grasping onto his strands tightly. “Fuck I’m sorry.”

Andrew frowns, “It was my file that set you off.” It sounds accusatory, “Don’t be sorry for pointless things.” 

Ice cold fear mixing with guilt isn’t a nice feeling. 

“You were having a bad day though.” He says weakly, as if that could answer the mess he’d fallen into. “I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice is firm and the most stable thing in Neil’s fucking world right now, but also the thing breaking his heart because Andrew doesn’t  _ really  _ care. He cares about Neil. 

Nathaniel can not and will never be Neil. Because Neil isn’t even real. Nothing in his life is real. 

“Neil, you’re slipping again.” The hand squeezes the back of his neck, “It was only a photo.” 

Ha, Neil thinks bitterly, _ how long until you stop believing that _ . 

“Surprised you haven’t started asking questions yet.”

The only sign of Andrew’s surprise is the twitch in his right eyebrow. Neil almost smiles, he wonders if Andrew knows he does that.

“I’m more concerned about getting my partner out of a mental breakdown, than asking why it started in the first place.” Andrew says, and his hands are so warm. Neil wishes he was a better man and could have done this for Andrew when he had first picked him up this morning. He wishes, and he wishes. But alas all he is left with is the rock settling in his stomach. 

“Thank you.” Is the only thing he can think to say in return.

Andrew eyes him for a few moments then nods, he lets the silence keep them in a blanket of solitude and Neil is grateful for it. He is more so grateful for the fact the hand hasn’t left either, or the one still curled around his other hand. Neil almost wants to tell Andrew everything, right now, so it’s done with. So he doesn’t have to go to sleep at night knowing that one day, one day Andrew will view him as the enemy, that they won’t be partners. That they never truly were partners, because Neil is a lie. Abram is close to one as well, and he knows Andrew doesn’t care much for that man either. He wonders what Andrew would do if he knew that it was Neil who gassed the precinct and that it was him who gathered Mads up and away. It was him who made Andrew turn against his job, turn against his friends. 

The soft pressure of Andrew’s thumb makes him look up, their eyes meeting for a moment.

“Idiot.” Is all Andrew says before he pauses, “Can I help you up?” 

Neil nods, so Andrew hooks his arms around his shoulders and pulls him to his feet. Neil catches his balance and feels his mind and body move back together, but this time he’s on alert, already pulling out everything that could be of threat or harm- 

“Rabbit,” Andrew mutters, flicking his forehead, “Stop it.”

Neil watches him go, watches him push the door open and turn back. Raising one of his dark blonde eyebrows when he sees Neil still standing there. 

_ I don’t want to let this go.  _

It’s a sorrowing thought but, Neil can’t do much about it.

He smiles, and it starts to feel more like masked agony than it does fake.

-

Neil is surrounded in a moment when he steps through those doors, feels Matt’s hand in his hair, Dan’s gentle hand on his back. Renee gives him a soft smile, but her eyebrows are creased in the centre. She reaches out and stops Andrew, she says something to him that Neil cannot hear, but he doesn’t miss Andrew’s double take, before he nods and keeps walking. 

“Are you okay dude?” Matt asks, and something warm is in Neil’s gut. He gives him a weary smile but it’s as genuine as he can manage right now. “You had us all pretty scared, I’ve never seen someone move that fast.” 

So he ran out the back door. Probably because he hadn’t had time to shackle himself down before seeing his father’s face. 

“Ah, yeah, I just get panic attacks sometimes. I’ve had ‘em since I was kid, it’s really no big deal.” Neil tries to reassure him but his group looks anything but, their gazes only seem to darken more in worry. 

What’s worse is when Wymack appears, stroking a hand on his greying beard and he points a finger to his office, “Come on Josten.”

Neil follows, not missing Dan telling him to come talk to her if he needs it. He waves a thanks and smiles, because he can’t remember feeling like someone cared unless it was Allison and even she could be hit or miss at times. 

But when Wymack closes his office door the last thing he expects is for Wymack to also look stricken. Neil was waiting for the yelling, the violence, the anger. Because a display like that shows that he’s weak and clearly not worthy to be working such an important job. 

“Neil, are you okay?” Is the first thing the older man sitting across from him asks, his hands clasped together in front of him, like he knows that it makes Neil feel better being able to see them. 

“I’m fine, Chief, I’m sorry about earlier, it won’t happen again.” He starts quickly, more out of old instinct than anything, “I didn’t get much sleep last night and it’s something that happened when I wa-”

“Kid!” Wymack cuts in, raising his hand sharply. “I’m not asking for a reason, I’m asking because I’ve never seen a panic attack like that. It fucking terrified me when I saw your face.”

Neil drops his head, the shame burning through him. _Weak_ , his father tells him. 

“I’ve read about your past kid. Coming from a family of crime and then being forced to be surrounded by it at work? I know it’s probably dragging some shit up that you would rather forget. I just need you to know that you’re a fucking strong motherfucker if you do this everyday and if you need a break. Don’t hesitate to ask me okay? These fucks get enough time off, you get to do yours too, alright?” Wymack finishes, there is no hesitation in his voice when he speaks. In fact, it seems like he might actually be telling the truth. And something in him yearns for the validation he speaks, so much so he feels like a child again only wanting to make his father proud. 

Wymack gives him a small smile, that barely curves his lips but nonetheless Neil nods and thanks him. 

He can’t place why he feels like there is a void nipping at his heels. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope things don't feel rushed with Andrew and Neil? It is really difficult to write a relationship between two characters that have already been built up together in canon oddly enough? I spend most my time complaining to my gf while writing this saying that I just want them to make out already. Ugh :(
> 
> Though I promise I will try and update more I just am so lazy when it comes to editing it's horrible. I've already written to chapter nine, and I really gotta just start editing this shit gah.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and support! I made a small fanart (not a well done one mind you) on my tumblr as well if you would like to check it out; https://kanekicure.tumblr.com/post/617043356104687616/you-think-youre-so-tough-baby-put-your-hands


	7. Don't Fear The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Andrew Minyard has to deal with Abram's bullshit and one time he realized what Abram was actually capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings; (SERIOUS) act of self harm, self harm reference, sexual assault reference, childhood abuse reference.
> 
> chapter title song; "Don't Fear the Reaper"; by The Spiritual Machines
> 
> sorry this chapter took so long, it's probably one of my more poor ones and I had to cut it in two. But enjoy Andrew POV with Abram!

Andrew has had four meetings with Abram now. Four meetings of staring at a masked face, four meetings of new rules being explained. Nights of Andrew meeting the rest of Abram’s crew, where the only tell from who’s who, is their heights. Oddly enough it seemed Abram was fairly short, even if he clocked in at an average height. Sparkly mask chick had informed Andrew that Abram’s black combat boots gave him more than a few inches to spare. 

The first time back, Andrew walked himself to the warehouse. He has a knife held tightly in his grip because no matter what Abram said, he wasn’t about to walk into enemy territory unarmed. 

_ Not enemies. You are working with them. _

The thud of boots landing beside him jolted Andrew, he whipped around, his knife moving to cut the offender. But the figure, of course, sidesteps with ease. Andrew glances up to see Abram walk back with his hands raised in surrender.

Andrew frowned, briefly considering still going after him. But it seemed Abram had already read his movements.

“I’m adding to the deal, no stabbing me again either. Your last cut was a bitch to stitchup.” 

Andrew grinds his teeth together in irritation, “Go fuck yourself.” 

“Is that a no?” 

Andrew huffs, “If you don’t try and attack me, then I won’t have a reason to go after you.” 

Abram nodded, before coming up alongside him with his usual swagger. “Fair enough, I’ll avoid sneaking up on you too.”

“Where the fuck did you even come from?” 

Abram’s ice blue eyes glimmered with something that looked like amusement, before he pointed a gloved finger upward. Andrew let himself look up for a brief moment, narrowing his eyes at the roof of a low hanging storage unit. 

“You’re going to break an ankle.” Andrew commented drily. 

Abram snorts, “Oh, what’s that? Are you worried about me, Minyard?” He laughs, sliding up to the metal doors of their destination before doing the same knock as last time.

“No.” Andrew snips back, “If you have a broken ankle it’ll be less satisfying when I arrest you after all of this.” 

For some reason, Abram laughed at that. 

-

The second time, he meets Abram in an alleyway halfway across town with Sparkles (dubbed that from Andrew when he isn’t offered another name). Abram gives him another piece of paper, this time with a heavy item wrapped in it. 

Andrew offered him a raised eyebrow, before Abram motioned for him to open it. To which he did, and instantly frowned at the grey flip phone it revealed. 

“They still make these?” Is the only thing he can manage to say.

Sparkles snorts, “That’s what I said.” As usual, the very sound of her voice sends Andrew one second closer to committing homicide again, but he holds his tongue in begrudged solidarity. 

This also earned them both a glare from Abram, who is hanging a few meters back, “It’s called a burner phone for a reason. It isn’t supposed to be nice.” 

“I mean they at least have the ones with the slide out keyboard, that’s gonna be a bitch to text on.” Sparkles counters, and Andrew silently agrees as well. Flipping the phone open, and watching it load onto the contact screen with a single number inputted into it. 

“Who says I want to text you?” Andrew adds, glancing up to meet the wary figure’s eyes and is greeted with a shrug.

“Don’t then. But read my messages and if you need anything you can call.” 

Andrew raised his eyebrows at that, Sparkles scoffed under her breath. “And when would I ever need your help exactly?” 

Abram looks away now, his fingers dropping to fiddle with the outline of his knives. “You know what I mean.” He mutters, before pulling away from the wall and stalking down the alley. 

Sparkles laughed, chasing after him and waving him forward. “He’s just embarrassed that he wants a friend. Come on, it’s game night back with the kiddos.”

_ A friend?  _

Andrew almost found it in himself to roll his eyes, but still, he picked up his slow walk into a jog. 

_ Why do I care about game night? I’ve done what is needed tonight. _

But even with these thoughts, Andrew found himself sitting in the middle of a room full of children and outcast criminals, playing rounds of Jenga. 

-

For the third meeting, Charles meets Andrew at the top of the hill. At first Andrew doesn’t say anything to the other man, only shouldering past him. He plans to ignore Charles for the entire trip to the warehouse in a silent protest against Abram sending him a babysitter. But Charles speaks first. 

“Today hasn’t been a good day for the kids.” He starts cautiously. Andrew turns and levels Charles with a glare, his only willing indication to Charles for him to keep going. “Had to do some tough shit, ya know, emotional shit. And the kids are getting tired of feeling dirty and using wet wipes for baths.”

He waves his hand as if that explains anything. Andrew’s fingers twitch for his knives. 

“Emotional shit?” Andrew echoes back. 

Charles sighs, “We, Abram and everyone finally gathered information on all the possible homing placements for the kids. Abram had to go through everyone's options to try and gather what the kids’ personal opinions were of each individual or if they even knew them.” 

Andrew frowned, he hadn’t been aware that this was something Abram had been doing. It made sense for Abram to feel out what the personal feelings the kids had towards the individuals found for them, but now this meant there was a shit ton of other work to worry about. Like finding out if these potential homes were actually safe.

Charles stops in front of the metal door, placing a large hand against it and closing his eyes with a huff. “No ones happy, a lot of those people were old abusers-”

The metal door rolled open abruptly causing Charles to stumble back and nearly impale himself on the knife he had pulled from his bands. Andrew shoves him to the side and locks onto the blue eyes that weren’t the familiar icy blue ones dawned by Abram. 

Judging by the pink wig that still hung in princess curls around her face, it was Sparkles. But she had foregone her usual white sparkling faceless mask. Instead wearing something similar to Abram’s own masks. For a moment he wonders if it is one of his. 

Huh, Sparkles and Abram? Maybe they were the rip off Bonnie and Clyde, Maryland really didn’t need. 

She stood with a furrowed brow, “You were told not to hover by the door, next time we shoot first and ask questions later.”

Andrew was only mildly surprised by the quick shift in Sparkles’ attitude. Or the way she crossed her arms in increasing frustration when Charles tried to sputter his defense. Andrew, decidingly didn’t have time to play this game so he shoved past them both. His eyes landing on the ground and cots that rested in the far corner. 

Like he thought, some of the kids were in their own beds, curled away from each other. Others were talking in hushed voices. Andrew felt the weight of their moods, and could see the grim expressions on some. But he didn’t miss the hopeful look others carried. Maybe some of these kids would get the future they deserved. 

That so many won’t get.

Andrew frowns, his eyes counting eleven small bundles, instead of thirteen. 

Andrew glances up, his eyes searching but coming up blank. 

“Where’s Abram?” He demands when Sparkles joins him in watching over the group. He was surprised to find what could be considered concern drawn up in her eyebrows. 

Sparkles huffs, before flicking her finger towards the back door. “He went somewhere over there.”

With that Andrew left to follow his small lead, ignoring the bitter remake behind him for giving no gratitude. He walked to the exit door, hesitated, before shoving it open.

Abram was sitting on the ground. Mads perched behind him and peered over his shoulder as Abram wrapped white bandages over a red headed kid’s arm.

Something in his stomach bottomed out at the glimpse he got of the boy’s arm. The thin lines, the- 

His own scars burned. It wasn’t the first time he had dealt with something like this. He was a police officer for god sakes, he got call to suicide scenes more then he cared to admit. But afterwards he’d always have to go home, always have to taste rum on his lips, always sit there with his arms exposed, running a finger up and down them. 

_ You survived, you survived.  _

“Andrew.” Abram’s cutting voice brought him back. “This isn’t-”

“Shut up Abram.” Andrew snapped, locking onto those icy blues. Before crouching beside the boy still waiting in Abram’s resting palm. “What’s your name.”

The boy stiffened for a moment, his eyes glassy but the anger was clear. Good, Andrew could work with anger.

“Killian, even if it’s none of your fucking business.” He snarls, a dog in a corner. A kid afraid to show his weak side.

“Andrew, leave.” Abram says again, this time looking like he’s planning on sitting up, “Killian doesn’t want you here right now.” 

“What’s with your arms.” Andrew directs to Killian instead, ignoring Abram. Who has gently pushed Mads away. 

“Blood. What? Are all cops fucking blind?” Killian is quick, also shoving himself to his feet. Some of the bandages falling off in the movement as Killian tries to make himself look bigger. Which might actually work, considering Andrew’s size. 

“Mads go inside.” He hears Abram say, only to have her fight back.

“No! I found him, I want to make sure he’s okay.” 

Andrew clicks his tongue loudly, Killian’s eyes narrow. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Killian.” Is what Andrew picks to say. “Get your head out of your ass. You get beaten to shit enough in your life, don’t start fucking doing it to yourself too.” 

Andrew recognizes the bottomless rage and grief that sparks along green eyes. He’d seen it every night in the mirror, shaking, bleeding and gasping for the pain but to also make it stop. Cass ignoring the blood on his sheets, Cass ignoring the marks on his arms as he dug further- 

“You don’t know shit.” Killian yells, even when Abram comes up and grabs his shoulder in warning, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Those unshed tears finally start to fall, because of course, a sixteen year old boy can only hold it together for so long.

Without hesitating, Andrew reaches up and pulls his bands down in one swift movement. “I don’t?” He responds coldly. 

Killian’s eyes widen, his face falling. Abram looks away before he can see. 

“Get your head out of your ass, Killian. Don’t throw this chance away.” He presses, trying to seem softer now. He doesn’t even flinch when Killian starts to reach out, a shaking finger posed over the marks. “Go ahead.” 

Killian presses down, his eyes falling to his own arms again, before pulling away. Falling into Abram’s chest before stumbling to sit back down on the ground. 

Abram briefly meets Andrew’s eyes, something like gratitude passes through them,

_ Thanks for helping. _

_ Thanks for not looking. _

“Killian are you okay.” Mads whispered, her walking up slowly along the gravel path. Andrew frowned, not really understanding why Abram had let her stay. But was quickly answered when Killian gave her a broken smile, stretching his already wrapped arm.

“Yeah Mads sorry.” Killian sniffed loudly, “C'mere if you hadn’t found me I’d be in trouble, thanks.” 

Mads nodded her head quickly before dashing forward and sitting on Killian’s lap. Andrew glanced over to Abram, who was making his way over to the two, a first aid kit in his hand.

“Okay, Killian, give me your arm and I’ll finish wrapping it.” 

So, as Abram slowly made work of Killian’s arm, Andrew pressed himself against the side of the storage unit and waited. His eyes tracking the precise movements, or Killian’s unwavering trust in Abram.

After, Killian and Mads went inside. Not without Abram pulling the boy aside, talking to him in a hushed voice. Even to the point of turning away from Andrew, and pulling his mask down. The hood covering his head managed to skew Andrew’s vision, but for once, he didn’t feel the need to dash over and pull the hoodie down. 

Whatever he was saying, probably needed to be said face to face. Andrew could respect that.

But now, Abram rested alongside Andrew. His gaze distant as his fingers fiddled mindlessly with a small pocket knife. The quick snapping of him opening and closing it was almost soothing in the cooling night. 

“Was he trying to kill himself?” Andrew asked, the knife paused.

“I don’t think so.” 

He pushed again, “Mads found him?”

A nod. 

Andrew frowned. Looks like someone wasn’t going to be a talker today. That was fine. 

“Has he done it before?”

Abram is quiet for longer at that, his eyes still focused on the horizon but there was a slight furrow to his brow. “No,” he says finally. “No, not here. I was aware of the scars before, so I kept an eye on him but I didn’t - it’s my fault.” 

He snaps his knife closed angrily and puts it away. “I shouldn’t have shown them the photos, I just had no idea where to even  _ start. _ ”

“Well first you could have come to me.” Andrew mutters, his own hands reaching for a cigarette to calm his twitchy nerves. “I could have run their names and see if they come up.”

Abram snorts, “Yeah I’m sure that coming up in your precincts database would not be suspicious at all.”

“What? You think I can’t erase my browser history?” 

If Andrew didn’t know better, for a brief moment, he could have swore Abram rolled his eyes at him for the comment. The tension draws out of him slowly, and Andrew can’t say he mirrors the other, but he doesn’t keep itching for his knives. 

“And it wasn’t your fault, you did what you could.” He starts, “Everyone has abusers, we need to learn to face them to finally let ourselves heal. Killian will figure it out.” Andrew finishes, even if he isn’t sure why he feels the need to comfort the other. 

Abram on the other hand, is completely silent. But he’s looking at Andrew now. Some small part of Andrew wants to reach out and pull the mask down, because he’s sick of being the only one here who wasn’t a mystery. 

Finally though, something settles the other. Maybe he found what he was looking for; Andrew didn’t know. But he did find the sudden overwhelming need to pull his gun from his belt and shoot the fucker right through the skull for the next words he spoke.

“Damn, and here I thought you were stupid.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

-

Abram was late to their fourth meeting.

Which is rare for the masked man and the first sign that something was wrong. 

But before Andrew can pull out his stupid burner phone that Abram has insisted on, he hears the distant tell tail sign of footsteps behind him. He turned and sure enough Abram was there, moving a touch slower than usual. His face seems more covered and Andrew can no longer make out even the sliver of skin beneath his eyes. 

“Andrew.” Abram greets as he has always done. His breath weezer than normal, almost like he had gotten back from running a marathon. 

Andrew doesn’t comment but nods back in response, noticing the sharp tension in the other. The frantic shifting of his eyes, their whites gatching the street lights and he is reminded of prey. Cornered prey. 

Andrew finds he does not want to know what makes someone like Abram act like the prey in any situation.

Abram moves to his usual spot against the billowing tree that overlooks the yard; crossing his arms around his chest in a protective manner causing Andrew to raise a brow at him. Hoping to prompt him into speaking. It was easier to ignore the reality of what they were doing - that they were in fact a low profile criminal and police officer working side by side because they had a familiar trauma. 

Andrew almost crumbled and spoke himself but was thankfully cut off.

A distinct rumble came next from behind him, Andrew turned with a quiet sigh and watched a white van climb over the hill before coming to a screeching halt next to them. If Andrew still found things funny, he thinks this would be his type of humor, simply because of the sheer irony of the situation. 

The side door slides open with a thud, revealing a mop of curly red hair and another black mask, covering the person’s face up to their eyes. 

_ Sam.  _ Andrew notes distantly, Sam is one of Abram’s people that Mads had mentioned before.

“Come on boys!” She shouts, clapping her hands together and motioning them in. As if summoned by Andrew’s thoughts, Mads head popped out from the side, her hair curled into a bun on top of her head and he raised his eyebrows at the sight. She gave him a bright smile and cheery wave. 

“Hi ‘Drew!” She manages before Sam lightly pushes her back into the car.

Andrew turns to Abram, “Really taking the kidnapper aesthetic to the next level huh?” He says blandly and doesn’t miss the quick flash of blue from under Abram’s hood. The only sign that the other had even heard the jab. 

“Sorry if it isn’t to your standards, you can supply the vehicle next time if you wish.” Abram quips before moving to haul himself into the van, alongside Andrew. The smell hits Andrew immediately and he wrinkles his nose openly, now eyeing the six girls sitting innocently on the floor, including a now concerned appearing Mads. They were crammed together, some sleeping against another, two others whispering in hushed voices and still eyeing Andrew. He sometimes wished Abram hadn’t mentioned anything about his day job, not that he could blame the kids for their continued mistrust. 

He wondered what Abram did to make them trust him unquestioningly.

Speaking of, he shifts his gaze to Abram, who sighs heavily, as he too, slumps onto the floor. It’s muffled by his mask like always, but something about it makes Andrew frown. It sounded far too similar to one of pain instead of exhaustion. 

Sam, who either noticed his intent gaze on her leader or was just oblivious, laughed at Andrew’s face. “Smells fucking ripe, don’t it? Apparently wet wipes really ain’t enough.” 

Andrew can’t say she is wrong. This had been one of his main goals for helping the kids out but it wasn’t exactly easy finding somewhere for all thirteen kids to shower without getting spotted. Especially with the police scouring the streets and asking the general public to help find those said thirteen kids.

“Ladies first?” He asks. 

Sam shook her head, waving a dismissive hand at him, “In this car, yeah, but we got another one with the boys. Taking a different route but the same destination, we can’t fit everyone in one but two trips increases the chances of us getting caught so we’re risking the two cars.” 

“Ah.”

He presumed Miss.Sparkly mask was driving the other car, noting her absence. In the few encounters he had had, he had picked out a faint social hierarchy and Sparkles sat just underneath a hesitant Abram. Andrew also noticed a significant disconnect with the people in lower positions, Andrew was beginning to guess this was a rag tag group Abram had managed to pull together after getting the kids out of Sheila Jackson’s clutches. 

He couldn’t fault Abram, it wasn’t horrible for someone who was an off the back alley law breaking citizen.

Andrew felt his eyes pull back to Abram when he grunted faintly as he shifted his position so his left side was pressed up against the wall of the van. Andrew didn’t think he had ever seen the man so gaunt and lifeless. His eyes sealed shut, from what he could make out, and he didn’t seem to notice or care for Mads who had been oddly quiet since they had gotten into the vehicle. She had hung back for a few moments, before finally crawling her way over to him. Her tiny hand touched his shoulder gently, and Abram hummed in response. Taking that for what it was she curled up on his lap, resting her head on his chest and peered up at him. 

“Abram?” She asked quietly, “Abram, don’t go far away.” 

“Yeah, ‘Ram. Are you okay?” One of the girls asked from the pile, the others nodding in agreement.

A small huff was all he offered. Andrew couldn’t make out Abram’s eyes from where he stood but Mads smiled, which was his best bet that Abram had at least responded to her. One gloved hand came up and patted her head, the other raising and giving the group of girls a thumbs up. They seemed to take that for what it was and moved back to settling down. Mads chose to slide her eyes closed. Her rotten stuffy in hand.

“Sit down.” It was Sam talking, “It isn’t gonna be a smooth drive.”

If on cue, the van jolted and rocked violently, if it wasn’t for his quick feet, Andrew probably would have ended up on his ass. He placed his hand against the wall to steady himself before sinking down to everyone else's level.

“Are we going to the place I suggested?” Andrew asked, aiming it towards Abram but of course Sam responded instead. Twirling her hair loosely in her finger before snorting beneath her mask.

“Well obviously, you gotta be worth something with the risk you bring us.” 

“Don’t.” Abram pipes up, “He’s one of us at night, stop bringing up the police shit. I’m sure bringing up the fact that you are a hair stylist at Chatters for your nine to five would sour the mood too, hm?”

Andrew wasn’t sure why Abram defended him at times like these, it even annoyed him, but still he said nothing. Offering a shrug at Sam who muttered a sarcastic sorry under her breath. 

Tapping his finger mindlessly on the floor, he keeps his eyes on the black figure that had a small child curled up in his chest. An odd sight, but Mads clutching onto Abram’s hoodie with a ferocity he hadn’t seen since the interrogation room, silenced some of the doubts that wouldn’t leave Andrew alone at night.

Andrew knew the eyes of monsters. He knew them well enough to recognize it when one's eyes were hardened by force and not from their own violation. So he let himself forget about the badge that rested on the counter at his apartment and focused on doing what was needed to be done.

-

They reached the place faster than Andrew expected. The van slowled before slamming to a sudden stop, causing the girls to split from their cocoon on the floor and for Abram to move to his feet. The sharp black dagger returning into his hand as he pressed against the door for a few moments. He reached a hand up, murmured something Andrew couldn’t make out and then the doors were shoved open by Abram’s hand.

Revealing Charles, who stood with a proud grin on his face, the backlit of a public pool glowing from behind. 

“Showers are up and on, thanks to yours truly, boss.” He says, dropping a mock bow. But judging by the sharp inhale from Abram, the joke didn’t land it’s intended mark.

“Thanks for doing what I pay you too.” Abram muttered, hopping out alongside Andrew. Who pointedly noticed he didn’t put his knife away. “Andrew you’re with me. Sam, take the girls to the locker rooms. Charles, keep eyes on the ground with Donavan.”

His tone was cold and chipped, not the usual sarcastic one that Andrew was growing used to from their few encounters. Before anyone else spoke though, Abram turned and started to move away from the group. A black van pulling up not far away, and sure enough Andrew caught the sight of a sparkling mask in the distance.

“What’s his deal?” Charles grumbled off handedly, while Andrew gave him a side eye look. Charles was a big man, and one of the few who didn’t wear a mask in Andrew’s presence. He wore a black hat, and was in the process of growing a beard that was slowly covering his dark complexion. He seemed to be someone high up in Abram’s crew but Andrew still wasn’t sure of his thoughts on him. 

“I stopped questioning it when he gets all pissy.” Sam shrugs, “As long as I get paid, I don’t give two shits.”

Charles seems to disagree with that but he didn’t say anything else.

Andrew was glad for the reminder that it seemed most people still have rational thoughts about all of this. 

They were alone for only a short few minutes, Sam sat with the girls, telling them to stay put in the car and Charles was speaking in a low tone with another man dressed head to toe in black. Andrew presumed that was Donavan. 

“Andrew! Lovely to see you tonight.” A new obnoxious voice purred, much too close to Andrew for his comfort. He pulled his knife from his armband silently before glancing over and catching sight of the obnoxious sparkling mask and pink curls.

Andrew decided to say nothing to the woman, who laughed far too loudly for someone who was supposed to be doing a stealth mission. 

Charles though, seemed more pleased at the sight of Sparkles. Andrew rolled his eyes. 

“Aye, V, wanna tell us why Boss is acting like there’s a stick up his ass today?” He asked and Sparkles - V - snorted. 

_ What type of code name is V? Fuck off. _

“You act like anything will ever be up that man’s ass. Maybe it’ll do him some good, getting laid for the first time.” She all but sighed, before spinning on her heel. He’s sure if he could see her face, she would be smirking. “Take a bullet for the team? God knows I’ve tried but it’s like talking to a brick wall. And soft one.... Alarmingly so.” 

It took Andrew a few moments to realize that the sentence was directed at him, abruptly feeling an ice hot rage flicker to life in his gut, his eyes snapping over to V and his lips curled into disgust. 

“Fuck off.” He snarled, “Ever heard of something called respect?” 

V threw her hands up in mock fear, “Oh no, he’s just like Abram. Charles? Aren’t they perfect for  eachother. Think about it!”

Charles was opening his mouth to respond while Andrew was getting ready to slit someone's throat, when the subject of their conversation appeared behind them. 

“Think about what?” He asked coldly which gave Andrew the sneaking suspicion that he had heard everything. 

“Oh just your non existent sex life Abram, that is all.” V wiggles her fingers at him in response, still seemingly keen on pissing the other off. 

It works. Abram’s fists clenched tightly along the hilts of his daggers, his blue eyes looking more like a simmering storm than a calm sky. “If I recall you have jobs.” He hisses, “I don’t take lightly to people who think they can slack off when something this high stakes goes on.” 

Charles at least has the decency to look sheepish and has snapped to attention in the presence of his ‘boss’. V, however, waves a hand over her shoulder dismissively as she stalks away. 

“Boss, are you sure you don’t want me stationed near you?”

“I can take care of myself Charles, do as we all discussed, you know, multiple fucking times.” Abram responds, “Andrew and I will be on lookout up top.”

Without even bothering to acknowledge Andrew, Abram storms off without another word. His hood pulled low and his head hanging lower. Andrew follows, checking on his gun that swings in his holster, peering at his ammo, and returning it to its place. His finger skims his knives through his bands, feeling their weight again reminds him of nights not long before now. Walking alone, sometimes he was tipsy, sometimes he wasn’t. Sometimes he would slide into Eden and look for someone handsome enough, someone who looked like they could listen and pull them into the backroom. The knives on his wrist were the only thing that made it possible, like now, following behind a man whose face he hadn’t even seen. 

The sound of Abram’s steps in front of him halts, so Andrew does too; glancing up and seeing a daunting sight of a ladder before him. 

“We’re going on the roof, like you outlined.” Abram says over his shoulder, before slinging his dagger onto his hip and pulling himself gracefully upwards. 

_ Great _ , Andrew thinks. Trying to keep the already rising anxiety at bay, or ignore the sudden swoop of his stomach at the mere thought of going up. When he had outlined the general plan of the best approach in his terms. He hadn’t planned on being the  _ one going on the fucking roof _ . 

_ At least _ , Andrew tries to think,  _ the building wasn’t too tall _ . Even now as he finds himself laying on his stomach, pushing himself to the edge of the roof. His gaze shifted over to Abram who was hunched a few meters for him. The breeze rustles both of their clothes, and Andrew sees a sliver of Abram’s hair slipping out of his hood and riding along the wind.

For some reason, he doesn’t look too closely.

He turns back to watch Sam, bringing the girls into the softly lit pool’s changing room. Mads was the first face he could make out, she seemed to be the youngest of the bunch. The older girls in the back were talking quickly to each other, the excitement they were trying to hide was shining through. It reminded Andrew bitterly of when he was young and sometimes starved from basic human needs. Like hygiene. Another bolt of anger shot through him, which he ignored and watched the boys follow another masked man that Andrew thinks is named Scott, slipped into their respective change room as well. 

He’s glad to see Killian standing next to another boy, he’s smiling softly. 

Andrew shifts his gaze back to studying the horizon, trying to focus on the few cars the putter by unassumingly - his eyes training to see prying eyes or worse yet, another officer.

But, like he predicted, there is nothing, aside for maybe the faint sound of the pool humming underneath, or the splashing of showers. The silence that he had stretched between the two since the beginning of the night, was suddenly unbearably uncomfortable. Abram usually, at least, had quicker quips to back himself up on, instead of radiating pissed off energy. 

That was Andrew’s thing goddamn it.

So, surprising both Abram and Andrew, Andrew found his words, “How’d you pay off the owners?”

Andrew had figured out the best route at the station. Abram found the place.

At first, he is greeted with silence. But then that fucking Birtish accent came floating back, “It isn’t difficult, some people owe me a few favours, that’s all.”

“Favours? And you didn’t think about bringing them here sooner?”

“Ah yes. Bring them here to only get caught with not only thirteen kids, but also bring what American considers, two other illegitimate people down. There is a reason I asked for your help.” Abram snapped back and Andrew only had a few moments to appreciate the temper this man apparently had before being reminded of his own.

“You know, your ‘ _ pals’  _ might have a point. Either tell someone what’s wrong or stop sulking about it.”

A scoff, “Since when did you care for my personal life?”

“Since it risks fucking up my mission.” 

“Oh  _ your mission _ now is it?” Abram sneers, sounding genuinely mad. “Careful, Minyard, your cop speech is leaking through.” 

The taunt sets Andrew’s teeth on edge, “Careful, Abram, your true colours are leaking through.” He volleys back. Even if he is aware that the insult isn’t fair, and people can have shitty days. But frankly, he can’t say he cares much what Abram feels. 

Though it seemed Andrew’s jab hit something deeper in Abram, because he’s fallen silent again instead of firing something back. Andrew sighs, waiting for the showers to stop running so he could leave. Even though he had spent the past week organizing this shit over text messages on a  _ burner phone  _ \- translation - a  _ flip phone,  _ with Abram. He had done enough sneaking around shit in the precinct, enough garbled text messages and muffled conversations through mask in dark alleyways, to be  _ bitter  _ when the mission actually came to forwishen. But alas, here he was, bitter, pissed off, and tempted to push the hooded man off the edge of the rough. At least, in the end, he could probably see his face.

“If something happens to me, before the kids are sorted out, I need you to promise me that you won’t abandon them.” 

The admission made Andrew stiffen, he even risked a glance over his shoulder to catch a blue eye also trained on him. 

“Why? Having second thoughts on the whole ‘doing the right thing’ now?” Andrew asks instead of answering. Abram looks away, sighing. 

“No, but someone else might if they find out.” 

“Will they be a threat to them?” He doesn’t need to say the kids, he knows Abram already understands. 

The fact Abram has to think before answering is answer enough, “If they discover them, then yes.” 

Andrew for a brief moment, almost breaks a promise. He almost wants to say fuck the risk, fuck all of this. He’ll fight tooth and nail to keep these kids on a straight path. Legally, and through his work, like he was supposed to in the first place. 

It could be easier, he could find loopholes, he could-

-But he never reaches for his phone.

“This related to your job, that isn’t kidnapping illegal children?” Andrew says instead. 

Abram for once, doesn’t argue his wording. It makes Andrew feel more on edge. 

“Sure, yea, it is.”

“And that is?” 

Abram turns again to stare, “What do you think Andrew? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” 

Andrew shrugs, “It’s more satisfying when someone confesses. Always has been.” 

The wind whistles by, Abram reaches up to catch his hood before it blows away. 

“I kill people.” 

Andrew blinks slowly at him, he knew that was going to be the response, he wasn’t surprised. But the dead look in Abram’s eyes made his chest tighten. 

“What kind of people?”

Abram turns again, “Why? Have someone in mind?”

That took Andrew off guard. He paused, staring at cool blue. Against his wishes a name forms in his mind, like always and for a moment he humors the idea of telling Abram his name. Seeing what Abram really could do, what this man who worked so hard to shroud himself in mystery was actually capable of. 

“Why? You’ll slice and dice them up for me?” 

A humorless laugh leaves Abram’s lips, “If that’s what you wanted, than sure, I would.” 

Andrew’s mouth felt dry, “For a hefty fee, I presume.” 

“Let’s say, you get the friends and family discount, give me a reason they should die. Then I do it.” Abram says, his black dagger in his palm, staring off in the general direction he’s supposed to be looking.

“He’s a rapist.” 

The words are out of Andrew’s mouth before he can think better of it. Abram regardes him slowly, and if he is surprised he doesn’t show it. 

“He’s a rapist, with a fetish for children.” Andrew repeats, the demons are lurking. He can see their shadows. Can hear their whispers.

“What is his name.” 

There is no question. Abram’s eyes are black, his dagger spun so it’s poised to strike. He doesn’t ask for proof, he doesn’t prod any further, and doesn't force Andrew to admit what he is sure Abram already knows. He just waits, Abram waits for the name. 

Andrew's heart is heavy in his chest. He almost laughs. He could say his name, he could say his name and he could stop looking behind himself on the streets. A habit he can’t shake since he saw him again, years later.  _ Years later _ when he thought- 

Andrew grits his teeth together. 

“As if I’d let you kill him.” Andrew manages, “He needs to be alive for when I tear his life down around him.”

Abram barely reacted to the admission, simply tossing his dagger into the air before catching it again. “Ah revenge, so sweet.” 

“I don’t believe in revenge.” Andrew corrected, “I promised him if he laid a hand on me or what was mine again that I’d destroy him. I keep my promises.”

Abram dug his knife into a groove on the pavement, letting silence fall in between the two. Idly he watches Abram moving his dagger back and forth on the ground. Andrew’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest as he desperately swallows around memories that sit in wait. Before suddenly Abram is saying two words that causes his hair to stand on end, “Ich bedaure.”

Suddenly Andrew was months back, standing on the roof of the Red Luxury. Running a hand across german words ingrained into the pavement, his mind spinning, impossible questions.

He shifted to look up, an answer.

“I’m sorry.” Andrew translated, “You wrote that on the building at the Red Luxury, why?”

Abram toys with the knife in the pavement, a faint scratching echoing in the otherwise fairly silent night, “It’s something I say to those who die at my knife and I believe they didn’t deserve it.” 

Andrew has a few things he wants to say, to question. But Andrew watches Abram’s stiff movements for a few moments longer before deciding not to ask. His mind still remembering the hisses of pain from earlier, part of Andrew wants to ask out of morbid curiosity. The other forces himself to stay silent.

The sounds of a dagger being pulled from the ground and Abram shifting to his feet, causes Andrew to turn. 

“There’s a man who’s been hanging too long in the alley, I’m going to say hi.” Abram says, responding to Andrew’s questioning gaze. “Make sure the kids get back to the car. If I’m not back before it’s time to leave, leave without me.” 

With that, Abram was gone over the edge of the building before Andrew had time to formulate a response. Andrew just barely manages to stop himself from jumping to his feet and scampering after the other, his mind helpfully reminding him that he is in fact, lookout, and he shouldn’t leave them blind. So he settles for grinding his teeth together in agitation, wishing, once again, that Abram gave him one of those stupidly fancy ear pieces. 

He scans the alleyways and ground for any sign of the black clad figure, or for what sent him off but he comes back dry. More so for the fact that there were at least ten alleyways in his direct line of fucking sight. 

Five minutes later, Scott and Sam emerge from the washroom, moving quicker than they had before. The kids bundled up as they moved efficiently towards the vans that had started up and were moving back for them. Andrew tries, and fails, not to snort at how ridiculous the entire situation was. Sam reached up, lifting two fingers in the sky - Andrew’s signal to come back. He tried not to focus on the fact it was Abram’s as well.

By the time he hit the ground, the kids were back inside. Charles hung out the driver's seat of the van, his face a careful crafted mask of seriousness. 

“Get in Minyard, or you’re getting left behind.” He barks but Andrew frowns.

“Is Abram back?” He knows Abram would have radioed the team when he split, even if he had given Andrew permission to leave without him. Andrew found it hard to believe everyone would actually pull out.

Charles seems to understand something on Andrew’s face, which he decidingly doesn’t like. “No, he’s fine. He’ll meet up with us later. Get in.”

Andrew knows he should listen. He should go. The only reason he’s here is to keep the kids safe but - 

_ “If something happens to me, you have to promise me that you won’t abandon the kids.”  _

Fuck.

Andrew, without thinking, pulls his gun from his holster. 

“Go, I’ll catch up later soon.”

Charles doesn’t seem surprised by his words, but does study him for a moment, before a small smile flicked up on his mouth and he shook his head, “Fucking cops! I tell ya.”

Andrew turned on his heel and ran, in the general direction of where Abram had been placed on the rooftops. His gun, a steady weight in his palms, but felt different without the usual gear that occupied it. Andrew was faintly grateful he hadn’t discovered a love for guns when he was twenty - he was sure that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.

He moved silently along the shadows of the neighbouring buildings, straining his ear for any signs of movement. He was aware of the chance that Abram may have already finished his business and left; making his way back to base, but something in Andrew’s gut kept him moving. His eyes scanning each alleyway or corner, the faint humming of generators or buzzing of a broken light crept around him. But never those of footsteps or breathing. He hadn’t realized there were parts of Baltimore so abandoned at this time of night. He figured the area would have been festering with life, criminal life to be exact. Patrols weren’t high here. 

Andrew wondered if something bigger had claims over here.

When he finally reached the fifth avenue, he heard the faint sound of shuffling and sharp inhale. He raised his gun, pressed his back against the wall and slid to the end of the building behind him. 

Sure enough, when he peered over he saw a familiar hooded figure pressed against the alley walls. His black hoodie pulled up and held between his teeth, his gloved hands making quickly, sharp movement against his side. Even from where he stood, Andrew could make out the blood seeping down, followed by the long gash above it. 

His eyes also caught the sight of what appeared to be a multitude of puckered white skin. Scars lining the other’s body graciously. While dark blue and purple bruises splotted amongst it.

Shoving himself off the wall, Andrew moved over to the down man.

“That doesn’t look good.”

He guessed Abram was in enough pain that his focus wasn’t as sharp as usual. Andrew’s voice caused him to reel back in surprise and drop what he had been working on before. A cry of pain slipping out of his masked mouth as his head slammed against the brick wall behind him.

Abram gave him a sharp look, “What the fuck are you doing here.”

Andrew gave him a bored look at that. “You were late.”

“To what?” Abram sputtered, his hands covered in thick red that stained the ground as he began patting it. Presumably looking for whatever he had dropped before. 

“Leaving.” Andrew responded, letting himself appear unamused, even if Abram had pulled his hoodie up again, not nearly as high, and pinched the skin of his wound together before pushing a needle through it.

It took Andrew a few moments until he realized sickenly, that he was stitching himself up. Abram even leaned over to bite the thread off before tucking the rest into a pocket on his jacket. 

“I told you to leave.” 

“And I’ve watched you limp around for the past hour.” Andrew crosses his arm, “You don’t inspire much confidence.” 

Abram smooths his black hoodie over his wound and adjusts his jacket, flashing him a cool look. “I can take of myself.” 

Andrew can’t help the scoff that slips past his lips, “Ah yes, stitching yourself up in a dirty alleyway after running to fight off an unknown threat when you are already injured, which you deemed to  _ not  _ tell your team about. Seems like a grand plan to me.” 

“Who says I was already injured?” Abram volleys back, “This wound was just given to me by my new friend I just made.” He gestures over his shoulder weakly, “Why do you care anyways?” 

“Because we made a deal. I don’t break my deals.” 

Abram blinked, confused. “I’m positive our deal has nothing to deal with me or my injuries.” 

“No.” Andrew agrees, because it is true. “But we promised to do it together. So I would rather you didn’t die in some alley.” 

“I wasn’t dying.” 

“Well I couldn’t be sure of that now could I?” 

Abram falls silent at that, he sits for a moment before pushing himself up. His hoodie falls forward and keeps most of his face covered so Andrew can’t see if he's in any pain, though he feels the chances are good by the hand clutching his side. 

Andrew says nothing when Abram falls in step next to him, always a significant distance between them, but they walk at the same pace. Andrew isn’t sure where he’s going, he isn’t sure who’s leading who at the moment. But for once, he doesn’t overthink it.

“Who was the guy.” 

Abram stiffens, before huffing out a breath and shaking his head. “No one important.”

That didn’t sound promising, Andrew eyed him before speaking. “Should I be prepared for a call about a homicide victim in fifth avenue.”

Abram grunts, or maybe it was laugh. Andrew isn’t sure. “No you’ll be fine, Officer Andrew.”

There was nothing else to say after that, so Andrew let it be. Trying to keep pace with the slow walking of Abram, trying not to look at the hidden wound on his side. Tries not to think about how quick Abram starts to get a hold of himself again.

“Are you really not going to say anything?” Abram pipes up out of nowhere, Andrew isn’t stupid. He knows what Abram is asking about, and he knows he should ask. But-

“We all have scars, yours obviously weren’t for me to see. I have no intention to pry.” He says instead.

_ You didn’t look at mine. _

Abram laughs, “That’s rich coming from a cop.”

Andrew shrugs, it’s weak. “I think we’ve already established I’m not the poster child for good cops.” 

Abram turns to stare at him, Andrew feels tempted to snap something at the stupid british idiot but he bites his tongue. 

“You didn’t react when I told you that I killed people, why? Even if you aren’t a clean cop, that isn’t something many people can stomach.” 

Andrew sighs, his feet dragging now as they walk down the street. He felt the exhaustion cling to his bones, his mind already too tired for a conversation like this. But still he musters the words. 

“You aren’t the only one whose killed someone, get off your high horse. Besides who says killing someone is such a bad thing?” 

“That isn’t the same thing.” Abram automatically argues, “Killing in your line of dut-”

“Shut up for once.” Andrew growls. “I’ve always promised to protect people, it’s this thing I’ve done my entire life. Thought I could do a better job of it if I had a badge, but… I’m still fucking useless at times.”

Abram says nothing. Andrew doesn’t know why he keeps talking.

“There was a boy, seven years old. Blonde and blue eyes, people at the precinct joked he was my illegitimate son because he followed me around everywhere and looked like me. He kept coming around the place after school and my boss has a thing for keeping strays so he couldn’t tell him no. 

“I knew something was wrong, I started seeing the bruising, the flinching. So I asked him about it and he ran, I didn’t chase after him. Maybe I wanted to give him the space he needs or some shit I don’t know. But he came back the next day, black and blue. So I told him I’d protect him, that he’d be fine. But the kid wouldn’t say anything, said he got into a fight, even though I knew. I fucking  _ knew.  _ I promised to keep him safe and I took my eyes off him for one second - one second. And then I was looking at his lifeless body.”

Andrew stutters, for the first time, he fully fumbles his words in front of Abram. His breath catching in his throat when he remembers Ben’s small hands clutching at his. How Mads became Ben for a breath of time, the moment she was gone. 

“The father never got caught, in the commotion of finding Ben’s-” His voice cut off, and he winced. Fuck he hated that this still affected him so much, he hated that he still felt the same pressure that he did when he got that fucking call. 

_ “We have a body on Easthaven, looks to be male, young, I’m guessing nine or ten.”  _

“Andrew.” 

Abram’s voice cut in through the storm in his head, but Andrew didn’t want to turn and face him. He kept his eyes focused solely onwards and tried to find his voice again. His tongue weighed heavy in his mouth.

“He hired someone to take out his own son cause he actually thought he could fucking get away with it. Apparently his family was running some shady drug business, they were using Ben to be a lanky in moving drugs from one place to another. Guess his father thought his son would spill, or wouldn’t keep up his facade. So he got someone else to do his dirty work while he was in a holding cell.”

Andrew let himself stop there, let the silence stretch between the two. The wind picking up again, the chill bone deep this time. Abram was still breathing slightly irregularly, his limp more pronounced and the soft sigh of pain more loud.

“I still think about hunting him down.” Andrew confessed, Abram’s light blue eyes shifted back to his hazel ones. “I still think about making him suffer exactly the same way he made his son suffer. Hunt him down, make him know I’m coming, make him so fucking terrified he begs for his life, make him remember his son before I slit his throat.”

The words are vomit. The words are something he kept close to his chest when the nights were too loud and now he was sharing them to a stranger. 

But Abram meets his gaze without waving,“Wanting to kill someone and actually killing someone are two very different things, Andrew.” 

Andrew spits out a bitter laugh, cutting him off. “My hands are far from clean, Abram. I told you, I protect people. And that’s what I did, no matter the cost.” He lets the implication sit, before continuing, “But I promised I wouldn’t be that person anymore, promised I wouldn’t go back to how I used to be.”

“And who was that?”

Abram asks, Andrew doesn’t flinch.

He stops, before spinning around and facing Abram head on, letting his eyes track Abram’s stiff form. He reaches up and taps his head, letting an old biting manic grin spread across his features, “You aren’t the only one people used to call Monster.” 

This time when Abram doesn’t speak, Andrew doesn’t either. 

He lets them keep walking, two monsters, bloodied, armed and slinking into the deserted night. 

Andrew laughs for the first time in years in his bed that night. 

_ How ironic _ , he thinks.

Andrew wakes two days later to his phone buzzing on his side table, he glances at the caller ID and frowns. 

“Renee?” He asks, “Is something wrong.” 

“They found him.” She says quickly, causing Andrew’s stomach to bottom out. “They found Ben’s father, Jared Witerfeild.” 

“Where?” Andrew manages to choke up, flying up in his bed and scrambling out of it. “Where the fuck is he.” 

“He’s dead, Andrew.” Renee replies, her voice betraying herself with a small quiver. “They found him on Easthaven, exactly where Ben was found. His hands have been removed, and his throat was slit.” 

At first, Andrew thought that the quiver in Renee’s throat was fear, but he realized that it was excitement. Sometimes Natalie did still show her face, just like how Andrew Doe was waking up with a deep sealthing feeling on contentment. 

“There was a note, ‘Daddies shouldn’t hit their little boys,’ Andrew none of this make sense. You need to get Neil and get down here.” 

“Yea, fuck I’ll be right there.” He shoved the phone under his ear and pulled his pants on in a hast. His heart slamming against his chest as he remembers Abram’s words. 

_ ‘Have anyone in mind?’ _

Abram killed him. Abram hunted him down. Abram killed the one man Andrew couldn’t. 

With a click, he hung up on Renee and reached for his flip phone, planning on phoning Abram and asking him why. Why would he do that. How did he know. He only gave him Ben’s first name. How- 

There was already a message waiting for him.

_ You told me you weren’t that person anymore. Well, I still am. _

_ -A _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out soon!!!! I promise this chapter was the one I was struggling with, I've been having a shit ton of issues with my ptsd lmao. fyi if you want to write a fic and have PTSD when it comes to police officers, don't write a crime one!!!   
> I had to cut the end off and add it to the other one. SO I am sorry about that but it was too long. Please enjoy :)))
> 
> next chapter with have a reveal ;)
> 
> please comment!! I love hearing for you guys so much. <3


	8. Honey Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil Josten doesn't want to be a lie. Andrew Minyard has never felt like this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; mention of police brutality towards POC, mention of past childhood abuse, mention of past sexual assault?
> 
> chapter song title; "Honey Whiskey'; by Nothing but Thieves.
> 
> -  
> IMPORTANT
> 
> HEY! I said this was going to have reveal but my word count got so long and the feel of this chapter was so different from the said there would be a reveal scene I had to push it into the next chapter. But never fear, it is already edited and everything so it will be going up tomorrow!

No one tried to find Jared Witerfeild’s murderer. 

Of course that wasn’t what it said on paper - it was just simply passed off as ‘lack of evidence’ (of course, Nathaniel made sure of that). But in reality, no one had really bothered to even attempt to uncover anything. 

Matt disregards the pictures of the man’s body that were placed on his desk. A simple flick through, his eyes dazed, before he dropped the folder down on his desk and shrugged. Dan didn’t mention anything about it, spilling coffee over her own stack. 

Seth laughed obnoxiously loudly from his corner of the room when someone asked what the cause of death was, answering with throwing his hands up in the air and saying loudly; “Who fucking knows!” 

Renee’s face was a cool mask, her hands grasped in front of her. Her eyes flickering up to meet Nathaniel as he walked into the room - her gaze making him stiffen. He didn’t know why it felt like she was thanking him when she smiled and her smile was a dagger's edge for only a moment. 

She didn’t even glance on the blank board of their clues in front of them. 

Wymack didn’t get mad at his kids when he watched them obviously slack off. If someone asked, he would just give them a smile and say. “I don’t know what you expected hiring the worst precinct to a job like this.” 

When the job got passed to outside of their group, Nathaniel watched as Jeremy Knox, a renowned detective, glanced at the case and frowned. 

Nathaniel found it in his trash later. 

His team didn’t speak of it. Neither did anyone else.

_ For Ben.  _ No one says, but everyone one knows.

However, Neil watched with conflicting emotions as Andrew poured through every detail of the crime. Those hazel eyes narrowed and focused on the papers splayed in front of him. His fingers circling the slit of Witerfeild’s neck, the bruising on his wrists, the severed joint. Something akin to obsession gleaned in Neil’s partner’s eyes. 

“He’s dead.” Andrew finally said, a picture crumpling under his palms. “He’s finally dead.”

Originally, Andrew told Abram the story of Ben Witerfeild. But once his father’s body showed up, the trust was extended to Neil on the drive to the crime scene. Hearing it again only cemented Neil’s confidence in putting his men on Jared Witerfeild, if not only for Andrew’s grief and hidden desperation, but for his own twisted anger in his core. 

After all, Nathaniel Wesninski did not like men who hit their boys. 

“Are you mad?” Is what Neil asked instead, because even if he didn’t regret killing Jared - and even if he knew Andrew didn’t care for a thing  _ like _ regret, a part of him still wanted to make sure Andrew wasn’t taking on any burden from the choice he had made that night.

Andrew shook his head, his eyes glazed and far away. “No, I’m not.” He starts, before pausing, flicking the folder closed. Neil reaches out a hand and pulls the folder away from his partner, maybe in some half assed way to distract Andrew from his obsession. Andrew gritted his teeth, “No, this is what I wish I could do, what I want my badge to let me do.”

“Kill people?”

Andrew shakes his head, watching Neil slide the folder into his desk, getting lost in the midst of the other unsolved cases. 

“No.” Andrew says, slapping Neil’s hand away but before Neil could voice a complaint - Andrew grabbed the folder from  _ unsolved _ and slipped it into the  _ solved  _ pile. “Not just anyone. The ones who have it coming. The ones who slip through the cracks. The  _ right  _ people.”

His eyes moved to the TV screen in the main hall, his lip curling is diguest at the news speaking about another death of another innocent black man at the hands of an officer who got away with it,  _ again.  _

Neil echoes his statement.

Someone switches the channel. Andrew’s eyes darken more. 

“The ones who deserve it.” He finishes. 

Neil narrows his gaze, “What? Are you playing vigilante now?”

A small bitter smile pulls at the edge of his lips, “Funny, I accused a friend of that once.” He hummed under his breath, Neil ignored the way his heart suddenly twisted in his chest, “But no, I want to be able to do my job. Protect people. That’s it.” He points his finger at the TV screen again, “Stop shit like that from happening.” 

And Neil guessed, that, that was it. That was really all there was to it.

-

The sound of shots echoed off the walls as Andrew lifted his gun and fired into the heart of his target before shifting to aim for the head. 

A whistle sounded from behind the protective glass that stood at his back, “Damn Minyard, still the best shot on the team.”

Neil, who was standing off to the side watching Andrew, glanced over to Matt who stood behind the blonde, standing in place at the firing range. Andrew stiffened at Matt’s approach but otherwise made no other move to acknowledge the other so Neil sighed. Before dropping one foot from the wall and swung forward, meaning to save Matt from another awkward encounter with the testy officer. 

“What about you? Don’t think I’ve seen you in action.” Neil asks, and Matt turns and beams at him. 

“Yes you have, Neil! I’m just always in front of you since Minyard hides you the moment the guns come out.”

His voice is teasing, but Neil isn’t sure who he’s teasing anymore. Even Andrew has tugged off the bright white headphones to scowl in their general direction. Neil smiles back at him, lifting a hand to give him a short wave. 

“Well I haven’t been shot yet so he’s doing something right.” He says, and Matt laughs, reaching out to pat his shoulder before snatching his own pair of white headphones and covering his ears. 

“Watch and learn then, my friend.” 

The words halted Neil for a brief moment, feeling his mouth dry slightly as Matt reached out and grabbed a pistol. Loading it quickly and walking past the protective glass, to take his place in the stall next to Andrew, who was still scowling at him. He watched the two - before shaking his head, because no - Nathaniel Wesninski couldn’t have friends.

Not friends like this. 

“Fucking come on you useless lumps of flesh! We are here for  _ training _ , now go fucking train!” Wymack was barking from the otherside of the room. Renee grinned before moving over to the guns, followed by the others. 

He watched them all start pulling on their gear, watched Dan make a snide comment to Seth who snapped something back. Renee laughed, and they too, waited until Matt finished firing and turned to look at Neil.

Neil rested an elbow against the wooden table behind him and gave Matt a thumbs up. He glanced over to find Andrew also looking at him, and his scowl increased into something that seemed like Andrew Minyard’s way of pouting. Neil laughed before giving him two thumbs up instead, to which Andrew seemed pleased with, because the latter raised a blonde eyebrow at him before turning his back to Neil once again. 

Neil’s heart ached ever so slightly at the sight.

“Remember how much he hated you when you first got here?” A familiar gruff voice said to his left. Wymack came to a rest beside him with a steaming takeout cup of coffee in hand. “Look at you now, actual proper partners. Didn’t think it was possible for Minyard.”

“Um, I don’t think he’s ever really stopped hating me Chief.” 

For some reason, the man found that funny. “Oh Neil.” He huffed, “Minyard manages to shake any group assignments days after the new person is signed. The first time he actually worked with me was with Renee. But she’s higher up then him and I had to make the split, unfortunately. But then you came along and blew me out of the waters.

“That… but, we still clash with everyone.” 

Wymack shrugs, “You two make good partners, here and off work.” He sips his coffee absently, when Neil makes a sputtering sound.

“What do you mean by that?”

Wymack raised a brow, “Seriously?”

Neil isn’t sure if this is the moment everything falls apart or not, but he waits for Wymack to start accusing him of both his own and Andrew’s nightly activities. He thought the answer definitely wouldn’t be good, but… he wasn’t expecting the older man to start laughing. 

“Oh fuck kid.” He snorts, “Poor Minyard.” 

Neil frowned deeply, opening his mouth to argue but Wymack shakes his head with a fond smile on his face. “Don’t worry about kid.” He says with a dismissive wave, motioning for him to keep watching the group.

So Neil bit his tongue and turned back and, like he guessed, Andrew and Renee were neck and neck for the best shot. Dan came in a close second with Matt on her heels. The only person who seemed to miss his wooden target was Seth, who was valiantly firing his weapon with reckless abandon. 

Neil bit his lip to keep himself from smirking. 

“Hey, Gordon?” Neil blinked in surprise at Andrew’s muffled voice. “You’re supposed to hit the target.” 

“Fuck off Minyard! Not all of us were fucked up kids who spent more time in Juvie then high school.” 

Neil was surprised at the sharp comment, turning to see what Andrew would do but, shockingly, Andrew simply raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to his target and firing in quick succession. Each bullet landing home. 

Well that was one way to nonverbally flip someone off.

After five minutes the shots finally started ringing down and everyone pulled their guns up, making their way back round. 

“Lazy fuckers.” Wymack grumbled from behind but didn’t comment farther. 

Neil tossed Andrew a water bottle who took it without comment but did lightly bump his shoulder in a silent thank you. Over the past few weeks, Andrew had started opening up with small moments of touch - ones that would have had Neil ending up with a broken hand if he had tried in the beginning. 

Neil didn’t want to admit how much he enjoyed those tiny touches. 

“Stop fucking smiling over there Josten.” Seth gripped, clearly still bitter by his poor performance. 

Neil feigned innocence, “Oh sorry Seth, don’t be too upset. I’m sure they offer a beginner program here.” 

Seth’s eyes flashed before narrowing and a gust of air came for Andrew. Neil accepted that as the laugh it was. 

The snickering from the others clearly grinded on Seth’s ego more. 

“Oh really Josten? Bold words from someone who hasn’t even fired a gun today.” 

A grin stretched across Neil’s lips, head tilting back in a rare show of arrogance. He knew he probably shouldn’t be goading on Seth, or do anything that would make him stand out but sometimes - sometimes he wanted to have fun.

“ _ Today _ . Who says I don’t on other days.” 

Seth sneered before he jutted his head towards the table now filled with a different array of weapons. “Show us what you got then.”

“I don’t-” Wymack started before Andrew cut him off.

“Let him Chief, we’re in a protective area.” Andrew said, before something snapped over Neil’s ears and he jumped in surprise, realizing Andrew had just given over his headphones. “Let’s see what you got, Junkie.” 

_ Neil Josten is a junkie at solving cases, not firing weapons.  _ Some part of Neil’s mind warns. 

Neil reaches over and picks the pistol up, making his way to where the others had previously been. The weight of the weapon was familiar, even if Neil was used to using knives, he had made some editing to his father’s old rules. Guns worked. Guns were helpful. 

And with one more glance at Andrew who was staring him down with a challenging gaze, Neil raised his weapon and fired. 

_ Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.  _

Five bullets, each target, all bullseye. 

Neil grinned to himself despite it all. Especially when he turned and saw Andrew staring at him with something glimmering in his eye, an ever so slight smirk pulling at those lips. 

_ Bullseye.  _

“How the fuck!” Seth shouted once Neil made it back over to the ground, carefully placing the weapon back down. “Mother fuck! The actual fuck!”

Neil shrugged, “I played a lot of  _ Call of Duty _ in college.”

“Holy shit Neil!” Matt shouted, lunging forward and Neil found himself being pulled into a hug, that had more arms than it should. Dan also wrapped her arms around him and cheered with Matt. Neil’s face flushed quicker then he knew how to stop it, even Renee came over to pat the top of his head.

“Guess Andrew and I have to start working on our aim.” 

Neil gave an awkward laugh, tapping Matt’s arms in hopes to be released but Matt simply lifted him off the ground. He let out an indigent squawk of surprise when his eyes found Andrew’s.

Sunkissed hazel, crinkled slightly in the corners, so warm that it melted the ice of Neil’s blues as the other shook his head before muttering.

“Junkie.” 

Neil’s heart felt so tight it was painful.

Friends. He blinked down, not like Allison, not like the people who were forced to be close to him. These people still picked him, even if they could just brush him off like another coworker. But instead, they wanted to be his friend. 

Nathaniel Wesninski had friends. 

He had Andrew. 

-

Like now, as Neil sits in silence while Andrew works. A day later, they were both stuck actually working. As Andrew was flipping through an old case file, a highlighter between his lips and a pen in his hand. He’s sipping absently on another coke can from the vending machine, seeming to take amusement in Neil’s slightly disgusted face when he goes to get a third one.

“What? Still got a hard on for hating caffeine of any kind that has any kind of sugar in it?” He asks, once he sits back in his desk and cracks the other open obnoxiously loud.

Neil sighs, “No, I'm just not a fan of sugar.” 

Andrew freezes, staring at him. The can is still hovering halfway to his lips and Neil thinks that it's the most emotion that has ever crossed his features. 

“What?” Neil asks, suddenly self conscious in his seat. 

“This is the part where you tell me that you’re joking.” 

“Why? I’m telling the truth, I just don’t like sugary things.” 

“What  _ do  _ you even like, first fast food and now this.” Andrew says.

Neil rolls his eyes, leaning his head on his hands as he thinks, “I don’t know, I like fruit I guess. Sandwiches aren’t horrible either.”

He thinks that’s enough, but Andrew is staring at him with something akin to disgust.

Andrew blinks, then chugs the rest of the coke and crushes the can. He grabs his leather jacket from off his chair and starts making a beeline for the door. 

“Fuck this, we’re done Josten.”

His voice is weird when raised, pairing with its usual montone cadance. Neil feels a grin split across his face when he also pushes himself up to chase after Andrew. 

“Oh? So that’s where you draw the line in partnerships?” He calls after the blonde who is still making steady pace to the door. A strip to freedom. No one bothers trying to stop either of them as they push out into the cold breeze once again, however this time Neil is aware enough of the sudden change. He brings his arms around himself in irritation, huffing out a chilled breath before chasing Andrew to the Maserati. 

Andrew shakes a cigarette out, his eyes gleaming with amusement when he comes beside Andrew. The man is making quick work of his smoke, as he speaks around it;

“Nah, you’re just a perfect excuse for me to get out of work.” He replies, “Today was boring, I don’t like being bored. Besides, they can call me back if they need me.” Andrew said easily, flicking the bud to the ground and turning to open his door and sliding into the car. Neil raises both of his eyebrows at that, but still moves to the passenger side. 

“Oh? Really now? Does that mean I get to also blow off work with you.” He asks once he opens the door.

Andrew shrugs, “I suppose you can also reap some benefits, Josten.” 

Neil can’t help the grin that splits across his face. This feeling is a little like how it would have felt if he was able to go to school and blow off class with a friend, Instead of having to sit in rooms with private tutors or being carefully told the way to gut a man.

Neil kicks off his shoes and throws his feet onto the dashboard once seated, sending a challenging look over to meet Andrew’s scathing glare. 

“I will cut off your feet.” He hisses and Neil waves a hand at him before throwing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Andrew scoffs but doesn’t say anything else, letting the car roar to life and taking them out of the precinct parking lot. Neil turns his head slightly to watch Andrew drive, it always fascinated him as much as he hated to admit it. The confidence in which his partner had to lean back as he steered with one hand and the other with a burning smoke, window cracked slightly to guide the smoke out. Neil enjoyed that greatly. Sometimes going as far to reach up to steal it and take a slow drag to piss Andrew off. 

Today was different though, Andrew still drove relaxed, but he also didn't move for a cigarette. Instead opting to rest his hand lightly on the gear shift. Neil feels his fingers twitch in his lap, he feels tempted to reach a hand out to just see how Andrew’s calloused fingers would feel against his own skin. He wonders absently how Andrew would react to the scars that cover his body.

He also knows that Andrew is probably tense because of him - well not  _ Neil _ but Abram. He finally responded to Andrew’s texts. He tried to be curt and professional and telling Andrew not to worry about the kids and that they were being handled fine at the moment. Abram was busy, and he genuinely couldn’t meet up… why risk Andrew being found out when he wasn’t desperately needed?

This wasn’t because he was nervous. No. He just… couldn’t meet up with Andrew right now as Abram. Sometimes it just… it just hurt. To keep lying, again.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Andrew says abruptly, reaching up with his free hand and shoving Neil to face the window. 

A forced laugh left his lips, “Like what?”

Andrew’s response doesn’t come for a moment, his hands squeezing the steering wheel once, before the latter glances over to him, his face painfully blank. “Like that.” He grinds out.

The answer is in Andrew’s ‘this is final’ tone, and it’s one of the few tones he has that Neil listens to, not willing to push him farther or accidently hurting him. If there was one thing Neil knew, it was that - Andrew had a fucked up past too - but unlike Neil, he had managed to escape.

The only issue here was that Andrew clearly thought Neil had left his past behind as well.

Neil lets himself sigh lightly, before adjusting himself so he’s more comfortable, he doesn’t miss Andrew’s eyes darting over his form for a moment before he presses his mouth into a thin line.

“Is what you said true? Did someone really try to cut off your legs.” 

_ Oh _ , Neil thinks. He guessed he was getting so comfortable around Andrew he had let one of his, as Allison called them, ‘ _morbid_ ’ and ‘ _concerning_ ’ jokes. He presses his head harder against the cold glass of the window, forcing himself to stay focused on buildings passing them and not the memory bubbling unbidden into the back of his mind. 

His father, strapping his legs on to the table. He was thirteen, tried to make a break for it one night after the training and the beatings became too much. He thought he was going to die, and sometimes he still wished he had. His father laughing above him and balancing a blunt axe along his ankles. The feeling sometimes still jarred him awake at night. 

He doesn’t know what to say to the question, so instead he tells Andrew another truth.

“Once, yeah. Didn’t make the same mistake again though, so it was a good teaching method in theory.” 

The other man is silent, Neil guesses he wouldn’t know what to respond with either if someone had told him that. Too fucked up, too fucked up for people even like Andrew to understand.

But Andrew is speaking again, a new furrow taking place between his brow. 

“It isn’t the same, but I hated being tied down - still do. But as a kid I hated the feeling of not being able to defend myself or run.”

It’s Andrew offering a truth in return, Neil takes it with careful hands.

“And you call me a rabbit, what a hypocrite.” Neil also knows not to acknowledge the gentle hands they are exchanging their pasts with, he stares at Andrew again and he doesn’t flinch away from him. Like Andrew refuses to flinch away from Neil in return.

“Ah, but I grew out of it, Josten.” Andrew taps his forehead, “Big difference.”

Neil rolls his eyes and lets them fall back into silence, but this time his body feels a touch warmer and his heart an inch bigger.

* * *

Andrew takes Neil to a cafe just outside of town, they both decide not to stay inside. He forces Neil to gather their food and he moves to sit on a bench that outlooks a park. There is a pond, some people walking and he admits he doesn’t hate the smell of the trees, and maybe even the flowers. He’ll take it over the thick smell of the city anyway.

He keeps telling himself that this isn’t in fact a date, because one; Andrew has never been on a date so he wouldn’t even know what it would feel like; and two; Neil isn’t even into him, also to add, three; Andrew doesn’t  _ do _ relationships. 

But of course Neil slides in so easily beside him and passes him his drink, and gives him a doughnut he had bought without Andrew’s knowledge. He unfortunately isn’t surprised either when he peeks into the bag and it's his favourite flavour. He is pretty sure he hasn’t even told his partner what his favourite kind of fucking doughnut is. 

He tries, and he fails, to stop his heartbeat from increasing. He clutches his cup because he feels like he’s sixteen with a stupid crush. 

He’s a grown ass man, goddamnit.

Neil sips at his boring water and chewing at the sandwich he bought, he looks far away in thought. Brown eyes study the small pond in front of him, following the ducks as they move around; even going so far to pull off a piece of bread from his lunch and throwing it outwards.

“Bread’s bad for ducks.” Andrew says, maybe a little to ignore looking at Neil’s brown gaze any longer. 

“What? Seriously? Who told you that?” He almost sounds sad, of course, only fucking Neil Josten would be upset about the fact he can’t feed ducks bread; but doesn’t bat an eye when talking about almost having his legs cut off, as a  _ lesson.  _

Andrew shakes his head minutely, “My brother.”

“Oh, Aaron?”

They don’t talk much about family, for obvious reasons when it came to Neil, from what he had been told, but Neil never pried when it came to Andrew’s own. He is silently grateful for Neil’s uncanny ability to read other people, and situations. But he still told him about the only two he considered his actual family, Nicky and Aaron. Their partners sometimes overlap, and because of the joy they seem to bring to his family, Andrew spreads his protection and less hostile personality to them at times as well. Neil takes what he’s told, and doesn’t push.

Andrew is starting to think he’ll never understand him. 

“That’s fucking stupid.” Neil says when Andrew nods to his question, “The thing I thought I knew about ducks, poof! Gone.” 

“Well they're birds, and they swim. There are two more facts about ducks.” 

Neil shakes his head with a frown, “Those are obvious though. I need cool facts you know? Not boring ones I can just know by looking at them.” 

Andrew lets the corner of his lip flick down, or maybe it does it on his own, usually he’s so incontrol when it comes to his reactions. 

“Ducks eating bread is the next most common thing you could have.” 

Neil hums in agreement, pressing a finger to his lips as he studies the subjects of his fascination. Even going as far to get up and pick the bread he threw in his long fingers and crushing it into his head. 

“But bread being bad for ducks isn’t common knowledge!” He states, opening his palm and staring down at it. For a moment Neil looks like he actually might eat it, but much to Andrew’s relief and sanity, he tosses it into a nearby trash can, before finding his seat beside Andrew again. “Thank you Officer Andrew, you have truly saved my day.”

Andrew rolls his eyes now, “It actually is pretty commo-”

A hand in his face cuts him off short, and he slides a blank stare at Neil who is shaking his head.

“No, Officer Andrew, do not finish that thought, I beg.” 

His eyebrows lift as Neil’s serious expression crumbles into an amused one before he goes for his water again. Seemingly satisfied with his game while giving Andrew an impassive wave of the hand.

Andrew wants to kiss him. Andrew wants to kiss him so fucking bad. 

He doesn’t. 

Andrew swallows down bites of his own lunch, but his throat feels sticky, tight, almost like it's closing up. The feeling though, doesn’t feel bad. 

They finish in silence. Andrew has never really enjoyed the company of someone else for a longtime unless it is needed. But he can’t help how he feels more seattled with Neil next to him, he tells himself it’s because he knows the idiot isn’t running off to get himself into a stupid situation like he always is. But Andrew is starting to think it might also be because there is someone there that is also watching his back. 

_ Watching his back.  _

Even without his memory being the way it was, he doesn’t think he could forget when Neil had first told him that he would watch his back. It happened within the first two weeks of them working together, things were still new and Andrew kept to himself mostly because that was what he knew best. Neil was there, Andrew was aware of him, painfully so, but they didn’t talk much besides on their smoke breaks. Neil sat beside him, sometimes he gave Andrew a cigarette from his own pack, and when Andrew was feeling generous, he gave Neil one of his. It was a comfortable new normal.

But Andrew had not considered Neil his ‘ _ partner _ ’. 

Then Andrew got the call from Wymack, it had been something about a rival gang shooting downtown. So they went.

It was messy, a shoot out. Bodies still cooling under the blaring sun, sirens wailing into the air and people snapping photos. Body bags being brought out and Neil standing next to him, his eyes shifting back and forth between them all, putting together something in his mind.

But Andrew grew up relying on his instincts. Grew up waiting for every bump in the dark so he could at least attempt to get away. So he heard it before he saw it, saw Neil’s head shoot up as well. Both of them turning to see a young woman standing off on the road - her hand covering her mouth. He remembered running to the woman, his hand grasping her shoulders just in time to pull her away from the squealing get away car. A hair too close for comfort. Andrew could feel the displaced air blow back on them as the woman reached up and grabbed onto his shoulder too tightly, she screamed. He had let out a shaky breath, refusing to let his mind not slip into old memories. He shoved the woman towards Matt, not caring for his glare and moved back to the road.

He hadn’t noticed that someone was left behind.

Usually at crime scenes, the ones he took Neil too anyways, the people were already dead. Not camped out waiting in the apartment building’s roof with a sniper focused on Andrew’s skull. Call it pettiness or whatever it was, probably because of the badge he was forced to wear, but the man wanted Andrew dead, and he would have been if Neil hadn’t thrown himself forward. 

Neil’s voice said something but Andrew couldn’t hear him over the fog in his head. So the other man lunged, hands grabbed onto his bullet proof vest, and he hauled Andrew down with him. The sound of a bullet thudding into the pavement itches away from where they now laid, in the exact place of where Andrew had just been. He didn’t have time to think before Neil pulled himself into a crouch, used himself as a body shield and drug Andrew with him towards a squad car a few meters away. But it was pointless because the bullets had already stopped. The sound of shouting and other squads, including his own, spreading out had faded away as he listened to the thudding of his own heart, and the calm breaths that had slipped past Neil’s lips.

His partner’s face, devoid of fear but instead a cold calculating look as he peered out from the car’s side. His hand still curled in Andrew’s vest. Once again making him wonder how much he had truly been involved in his mother’s work. 

Anger took place over the adnearline. He slapped Neil’s hand away with a growl before pulling him back under the cover of the car.

“You could have gotten yourself fucking _ killed _ , you idiot.” Andrew had snarled, reaching to grab him by his blue shirt. “I’m the fucking cop here, you will never do that again if you want to stay on this fucking force, alright?” 

But Neil was stubborn to the fucking bone, and he shoved Andrew just as hard. 

“No.” 

Andrew’s lips had twisted into a snarl, “Excuse me?”

“No, if it means you dying because you are so determined to save everyone else, then no.” Neil replied, calm as ever, brown eyes weighted. “I’m your partner, remember? You’re too busy watching everyone else's back, so let me watch yours.”

Few times have ever struck Andrew Minyard speechless. The worst part of it was how badly Andrew had wanted to accept, how badly his body craved the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone. But what his heart wanted and what his mind knew were two different things, and he could never get rid of the knee jerk reaction to turn away. So he had fought Neil on it, vicious and with seething remarks.

But Neil Josten just didn’t listen. Didn’t seem phased. 

Somehow, Neil hadn’t let him down yet. 

And he never explained how only he noticed the sniper and the target it was planning on. 

Andrew wonders if Neil would tell him now. 

“Why do you have files on the Butcher?” Neil asks, ripping Andrew back to the present day. The sounds of people talking, people walking, ducks quacking from their position in the pond a returning echo. The air is chilly enough, enough that Andrew catches the shiver going through his partner’s body. 

His body is strung tight. Andrew studies him, his mind trying to place the reasons behind every flinch and the look of fear that Neil tries so desperately to hide but he fails everytime. 

“I’ve been looking into him for a while.” He decides on. Neil frowns. 

“Why? He’s been confirmed inactive at the moment, besides the police haven’t found anything of substance that they can actually arrest him on.” His voice... his voice is as fake as the time Andrew had first met him, he does not like it. 

“Does that matter? Nathan Wesninski is a guilty man. I plan on proving it.” 

When Andrew says that name, Neil’s entire body flinches. Andrew watches as Neil tries desperately to hold it back, to reign it in and stop it. Brown eyes close, a shaky breath slips from his lips. Andrew is mad Neil even brought the subject up.

“Don’t.” He says softly. 

“Why are you so afraid of this man, Neil?” Andrew asks this time, because he needs to know. He needs to know how a boy who supposedly grew up in Chicago and in a low level gang is on the verge of a panic attack from the mention of a ghost story. The Butcher is not a man, he has become so much more than that, an illusion instead of reality. 

Neil says nothing, the light from his eyes follows suit, bleeding into coldness.

Andrew raises his head,  _ who are you? _

“He killed my mother.” 

Andrew blinks, surprised. “How?”

A cruel grin spreading across his face, the powder covering Neil’s face is thinner today. The grin cracks something and he sees the ghost of a scar underneath. When his eyes shift to meet Andrew, a familiar feeling grows in his gut, his partner’s eyes should not be that dark.

“Slowly, painfully, bloody.” He grits his teeth, “He probably doesn’t even remember my name.” 

“How does a low level gang get involved with organized crime at that level?” Andrew doesn’t understand and he hates not understanding. He hates knowing that something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what yet.

Neil has paused for a few moments, before shaking his head. “My mom was in bad shit, like I told you, but she was obsessed with it. Her boyfriend just introduced it to her. She wanted more, got power hungry. Men like the Butcher notice things like that, potential threats I guess.” His eyes look far away as he speaks. “My mother made a name for herself, a reputation. Tried to convince people that she wasn’t just some fling hitching a ride with her boyfriend on his drug deals. She got addicted to the thrill or some shit, didn’t care she had her son in the back seat-” He trails off now, his hands curling into each other, his foot tapping on the cement.

“The Butcher took notice when there was a new power dynamic, people like that have eyes everywhere. So he made a deal with my mom, one she couldn’t refuse and because she was so ignorant. She accepted a deal where she couldn’t meet her side of it.” A horase laugh, “No,  _ I _ couldn’t make ends meet, it was fucking impossible what she wanted to do. Everything I did, everything I tried, there was no way I could figure something out to get enough money to save our asses. So he showed up one day, just fucking showed up. He killed her in front of me, made sure I knew that he lived up to his name. Wiped everyone out, made it look like a shootout and the police never questioned it. Never do, do they? I lived, only because he was saving me for last and the police had enough time to show up.”

Neil falls silent, Andrew wants to reach out. Not out of pity, but he needed to do  _ something.  _ Neil’s trembled again, and before he could think twice, he was tugging off his jacket before resting it across Neil’s shoulders. The black leather is an odd combination against the blue hoodie he was wearing, but still, Neil reaches up and tugs it closer to himself. His brown eyes open again in confusion, but he doesn’t say anything.

“He won’t touch you.” Andrew says, because the Butcher had made a permanent home in Neil’s mind. Took more than anyone could give, something that Andrew had a bone deep understanding of. He could protect Neil, even if he was sitting in the middle of the wolf’s den. “I won’t let him.”

Neil gives a weak laugh, his eyes are desperate, pleading. And Andrew can’t figure out what it is Neil is begging him for. 

“Don’t Andrew. I told you, he has eyes everywhere. If you dig too far, if you-” He stops, his fingers twitch towards Andrew’s. “-He’ll kill you. Stop now, he isn’t worth it.”

“Why are you in Baltimore if you are so petrified of this man, why would you even humor the idea of accepting this job.” Andrew snaps, because he isn’t in the mood to hear more of Neil’s bullshit.

“Because I had no choice.” Neil says quietly, “Because some part of me wants to see him get what’s coming for him so badly that I couldn’t stop myself.” 

“Then don’t question me when I too want to see the same fate for him.”

Neil seems surprised by that. He’s scooted closer now, or maybe Andrew has. It doesn’t matter though, because the wind is cold and the others body is warm but now Neil is looking at him, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly and Andrew wishes he wasn’t so pulled in.

“Why do you care so much, I haven’t seen you this passionate about a case besides Mads’ case.”

Andrew fights the urge to smirk at that, it would be a bitter one at that. He wonders how Neil would react if Andrew told him the truth, told him that he already found her, that he decided to buddy up with some masked criminal who had a soft spot for kids. 

He glances at Neil, and thinks that Neil probably wouldn’t even blink twice.

“Andrew.” Neil repeats this time, more edge to his tone.

He huffs, “I want to help the people who have been failed by the law, by the entire fucking system, you know this.”

“But, why dedicate everything to this. Your life, Andrew?”

_ Why? Because the law is broken, it is flawed. Because someone has too. Because it is corrupt. Because there are too many people who see money first, who don’t see past their own prejudices. Because, because, because... _

“Because I was one of them once.” He says, and swallows the lump that is growing in his throat, “I’m sure you understand that.”

Neil doesn’t say anything - and he doesn’t have too. 

They sit in silence for a while, Andrew allows himself to enjoy the closeness of Neil for once. But the sun is painting the sky a soft orange and Andrew isn’t sure how long he can handle the cold.

He’s about to stand, about to tell Neil that they should leave. When Neil starts speaking again.

“Why the Butcher though?” His eyes are pained, and not for the first time he wants to ask what colour they truly are. “So many cases Andrew, why go after one so dangerous?”

Andrew doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t know why one day he woke up, and started reaching for the hundreds of cold cases because something didn’t add up. Why he spent nights sitting on the roof of the precinct mulling over every story, every victim, every life, that got dismissed because of lack of evidence. 

How he met someone with blue eyes and knives, but he couldn’t place why the man felt so familiar. 

He won’t be like everyone else. He won’t shut his eyes, cover his ears, and keep his mouth shut like everyone else. 

“The Red Luxury.” He says instead, “The woman, Sheila Jackson, was an alleged contact of the Butcher. I’m just doing it to help find the kids.” 

He doesn’t like lying. 

He doesn’t like the way his partner knows he’s lying. 

He doesn’t like the feeling that his partner wasn’t telling him the entire truth either.

* * *

spotify playlist - [x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tGVG8DYcga1vSmnvXj5j6?si=LsAPDJAmT26pZiKgRnmhbQ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the mention of the horrific murder of George Floyd because of the needed awareness and spread to these crimes committed by police officers that go unpunished. And as I am writing from the perspective of a officer, I felt it would be wrong to pretend that something like this doesn't happen on a daily bases to POC. 
> 
> If possible, look into these petitions -  
> https://t.co/3PIMIlK6gq?amp=1  
> https://t.co/fNNLAnV0C4?amp=1  
> https://t.co/kwgnPguBgP?amp=1
> 
> -
> 
> I'll also repeat what I said before if anyone missed it. 
> 
> MY CHAPTER GOT TOO LONG AND THE MOOD WAS TOO DIFFERENT SO THE REVEAL CHAPTER WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW.


	9. Holding Out For a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard has never been afraid to die. 
> 
> He is afraid now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; murder, mentioned past sexual abuse, mentioned blood, life threatening injuries.
> 
> chapter title song; "Holding Out For A Hero," by Nothing But Thieves.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The weight of his gun used to be the most comforting weight in his hands next to his knives. A promise of destruction, a promise of protection. He learned the way the gun moved with him if he needed it, how he was still in control of where the bullets landed and who the bullets harmed. 

But now, sitting on the floor of a warehouse, lights flickering out above him and the steady sounds of opposing gunfire echoing in his ear. His heart is thudding against his chest and with the dead weight of his gun in his palm, it makes his skin crawl. 

He had two shots left. 

His entire squad had five shots left. If he made his calculations correctly.

Andrew closed his eyes, and hissed a breath out between clenched teeth. His knees bunched up to his chest, as he kept his head ducked behind the metal crates in the vast warehouses’ basement. His eyes flicked up and locked with Renee who was a crate away from him. Her face pale and gaunt, her body posed to lunge forward. So, he raised his fist in the air, signally for her to hold. It wasn’t worth the risk trying to avoid the gunfire to get closer to each other.

She looked uncertain, probably catching on that Andrew was going to be firing on empty pretty soon, but raised her hand in response. 

_I understand._

Because they were shit out of luck, because even though Dan kept shouting out for their opposers to cease and desist. Threats of jail time, threats of them returning their fire. Threats of backup. It was all fucking useless because they already _had_ been shooting. They had already called backup and they were miles out. 

The Bearcats gang was young, but made from wicked roots and they wanted to see them bleed. They wanted to see how far they could push until every officer in the building was dead. 

Andrew Minyard was sure he was going to die.

And it was all fucking Seth Gordan’s fault. For the record, if Andrew died because of Seth fucking Gordon he was not going to be happy.

-

It had been his idea, his bust. Yesterday he had come into the precinct carrying a confidence about him that was not only obnoxious, like usual, but nauseating this time round. His light brown hair slicked back, a smirk on his face, and a paper in hand. 

“I have a bust.” He declared. Now standing near the whiteboard, picking up a pen and tapping it on the board to bring everyone attention to him. “The Bearcats gang is having a deal in the Western district tomorrow. _We_ , are gonna bust it.”

Beside him, Neil threw his feet up on Andrew's desk and smirked, “How did you even acquire this information?” He asked with his usual lithe tone. Seth’s eyes narrowed on the auburn haired man, something like resentment fluttering across his features.

“I have my sources.” He snapped, “Now shut up, you aren’t even a cop.” 

“My job is literally to consult with you on gang related things.” Neil pointed out, gesturing to the messy scrawl on the whiteboard Seth had put down. “This sounds gang related to me.”

Matt gave a half hearted snort at that, drawing up to Seth’s side and taking the paper from his hands. He glanced down at it and his face flickered into surprise before the colour from his cheeks slowly leached out.

“What is it Boyd?” Andrew asked, already feeling ancy with, what someone would consider, excitement. Andrew, liked busts. They were always messy, and Andrew knew how to deal with messy things. 

Matt opened his mouth, before closing it again and passing the paper to Dan. She seemed less than pleased with whatever she saw, but she didn’t out right start cursing the two boys out. Her finger tapping mindlessly, as she hummed under her breath.

“Did you run this past Chief?” 

Seth blinked at her and she scowled, “Of course you didn’t.” She mutters, folding the paper up and slipping it into her pocket. “We’ll need Jeremy’s squad with us too, the six of us won’t be enough for a bust.” 

Everyone murmured agreement except for Andrew and Neil who kept quiet.

Sure, Andrew was more than annoyed that no one had responded to his question, but he wasn’t surprised. He dropped his pen onto the desk, crossing his arms before glancing down to the new cases in front of him. _Whatever_ , he’d find out later if it got approved. 

“I think Andrew asked something.” Neil piped up from beside him, “What’s on the paper?” 

Matt straightened, and actually looked sheepish for a moment. “Shit, sorry Andrew, um, it’s just the source-” 

“It’s Jean Moreau.” Dan interrupted as she strided over to Wymack's office. 

That made Andrew pause, Jean Moreau, ratting someone out? Now that was interesting. Moreau hadn’t made a peep since Kevin Day had managed to wiggle his way out of the Ravens empire's’ grasp five years ago. Andrew leaned back on his chair in contemplation.

“Why would he sell out the Bearcats?” He said out loud to no one in particular, but was surprised when everyone's attention diverted to him and for once their gazes weren’t all hostile or fearful.

Andrew frowned. When did that change?

“More importantly, who is the deal with?” Neil followed in with, Andrew noted his features had twisted into their more stoney cold look, the look he got when he was thinking. His fingers tapping a familiar pattern onto his grey jeans, the other fingers spinning a pen in hand. Andrew was too busy watching this to notice the way Seth had perked up, he didn’t see the shit eating grin that spread across his face as he announced the words the worst precinct in Baltimore, and arguably all of America, thought they wouldn’t hear. 

“The Ravens gang themselves.” Seth had said proudly, “We’re gonna be taking down the fucking Ravens, motherfuckers!” 

-

That was when Andrew should have known it was a trap. There were only so many well known gangs in America, ones that plenty of police forces, _the FBI,_ for that matter, were trying to take down. Rumours of them being a branch from the Yakuza had only added to their notoriety in more recent years. Kevin Day’s daring escape made them a highlight to the world’s authorities. 

This... made Andrew familiar with them. 

He should have known they wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a leak slip, much less from one of their own. 

A bullet whizzed past Andrew’s face, a breath too close. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, jarring his head to the side and slamming flat against the crate behind him. He pulled the chamber from his gun, ignoring his trembling fingers, and recounted the ammo, still two bullets. On his entire person.

A shout from his left, “Pull back!” Dan’s voice boomed, and Andrew almost rolled his eyes. Because if that was an option he figured they would have taken it by now. Their only bet was holding their own against a fully loaded and sealthing Bearcats, who also happen to have just been fucked over by the Ravens. When the Ravens didn't even bother to show to their own meeting. Their shattered egos were doing nothing for their volatile moods. 

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment to forcefully calm his slamming heart. Letting himself be glad, for once, that Neil wasn’t allowed on missions like these. No matter how pissed off it made his partner, facts still held and he wasn’t an officer. Neil was safe, was probably home, wrapped up in his bed and sleeping peacefully. 

Andrew finds, for the first time in a very long time, that he doesn’t want to die. That he, against everything he had ever said, against all the bullshit he used to spew in university, that he just might, shouldn’t, but would, regret some things he never got the chance to do. 

Another round of bullets to his right, and then followed by a hoarse cry. “Officer down!” 

Andrew gritted his teeth, _fuck it._

He moved before he could think better of it and lunged through the gap separating him and Renee. He twisted to aim his glock, lining it up, and fired. 

The thud of a body hitting the ground was followed by another round of shots and a sharp sting starting up on his side. Andrew’s body landed, rolling past Renee. He gave himself a moment to suck in a shaky breath before finding his footing again and lifted his gun one more time over the top of the crates. Another man stood in the centre, he was massive. _Gorilla_ the gang’s leader, Andrew remembered Neil’s voice telling him. He’s in the middle of turning to face his fallen lanky who was slumped on the ground, blood spilling out. Gorilla snarled, he turned- 

Andrew finger covered his trigger-

_-go for the head._

So he did.

Andrew hadn’t prepared himself for the woman who threw her body in front of her leader. Taking the bullet that was intended for him instead. 

Her head snapped back, tilted, before her body slammed onto the pavement and Andrew dropped back down. 

The bullets didn’t stop, if anything they had increased with a new ferocity.

Andrew didn’t have time for regret. 

“Do you have any ammo on you.” Andrew asked, looking to Renee next to him. Her eyes downcast, and he noted her gun laying on the floor beside her. That was answer enough, he didn’t need to hear the no.

“Fuck.” He grunted, letting his head hit the crate beside her. At least he was with his old partner, he could keep her safe - he could get her out of here. But judging by the cold look in her brown gaze, she wouldn’t make that easy.

At least Neil was safe.

“Come on you fucks!” A voice, who he assumed was Gorilla’s, shouted out. Footsteps heavy behind them as others shifted around. Repositioning themselves for their lost men. “You started this shit, fucking finish it, huh? Where’s that backup?”

A breath, then the man laughed, “You think killin a few of us is gonna stop all of us? You think we’re really so stupid not to prepare for busts when it comes to this fucking city. Stupid fucking cops.” The loading of a gun, a spin, then a click. 

The sound of a bullet hitting metal, the crate to their backs rattles but he and Renee do not flinch, even though it shakes them to the bones. 

“Behind there right? The only fucker in this room with some balls huh? Come on, come out and take your chances again with me, big shot.” Another fire. “Show me whatcha got.” 

Andrew's eyes flicker down to his weapon. His gun was useless now but it could play as a distraction. He also had one knife on his person, he could use it if someone tried coming directly at him but Andrew was shit at throwing knives.

His only chance to slow down the carnage, at least long enough for backup, would be to try and distract Gorilla for as long as he could. With an empty gun and a single knife that he could hide in his boots. 

He was definitely going to die. 

_Guess I should’ve kissed Neil at that park bench_ , he thought bitterly. Before pulling his gun to his chest and moving into a crouch, ignoring the way his vision swam.

A hand gripping onto his arm stopped him. 

“Don’t.” 

Andrew followed the hand to look over at Renee. She wasn’t looking at him, her head bowed, white hair splayed outwards, her fingers curling around tighter on his wrist. “Don’t, Andrew.” 

“Rene-”

Another shot cut him off. This time Andrew flinched.

“Please, listen to me. Killing everyone in this room will make you the biggest target for the FBI. It isn’t worth it.” Dan yelled, but she faltered when Gorilla laughed. 

“Maybe it’ll be nice! Not hiding behind the fucking shadows of all this organized crime bullshit!” He sneered, before unloading the rest of his clip into a wall near where Andrew assumed Dan was huddled behind.

More laughter, this time Gorilla’s men joined in.

“I'm bored, finish it. No survivors.” Gorilla spat. 

Andrew sagged when he realized there was no sound of returning gun fire from their squad or Jeremy’s. 

They lost. They lost so fucking bad. 

Andrew drops his gun. _Fuck_ , he really wished he had kissed Neil at least once.

He reached down and pulled the knife from his boot. At least one more fucking Bearcat was coming down with him. Andrew take a sharp breath, ignored the stinging on his side and prepared himself to-

Then the room suddenly exploded in motion.

“Drop your guns, or get loaded with lead. The option is yours.” A new voice has entered the fray as the warehouses doors slam open, feet scatter, the sound of the safety being clicked off rifles. A muffled scuffle, a shot, another body, then another. Gun’s whirl to life, the distinct sound of knives flying into bodies echo in Andrew’s ear and Renee is pulling him onto the ground with her.

A few broken cries echo out. Andrew can't see anything, besides the shadows along the wall flicking in and out as other bodies slam into others. Before finally everything fell into a taunting silence.

“Six of your men, in 30 seconds." Ice runs through Andrew's veins as the new voice speaks. He hears heavy footsteps and a gasping breath before the voice continues, "Pathetic really, you think anyone will take you seriously with a performance like that?” 

The voice is cold, vicious, whoever this man is, he is livid. 

He looks over to Renee, her eyes are open wide now, staring at Andrew. For some reason she looks relieved. 

“You-” Gorilla sputters, he sounds less sure of himself now. He sounds in pain, following the sound of something clattering to the floor. His gun, Andrew assumes. “Nathan- Nathaniel, I was not aware you would-”

Renee sucks in a sharp breath next to him.

Andrew blood turns to ice, _Nathaniel…. That’s impossible._

 _You know it isn’t, Andrew._ Another part of him hisses.

_Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel. He isn’t dead. He isn’t dead?_

_The Butcher's boy._

Nathaniel tuts, then there is the sound of something airborne before the distinct sound of a knife embedding into flesh circles the room. There’s a gruggled cry and then another body hits the floor. 

Nathaniel is speaking slowly again, “Oh what’s that? Another one, _Gorilla_? How many do you have left now?” A quiet hum, before. “Ah, four more, Gorilla. That’s good news for me because I have been needing to practice my aim again. So, what do you say? Do you think I’ll land another one?”

“Nathaniel- you don’t-”

Gorilla’s voice is cut off by a snarl that sounds boardline inhuman. Andrew guesses that Nathaniel has moved to grab onto Gorilla now. 

“Remember this, for every lie, for every stutter, that comes out of your mouth in the next few minutes. I’ll be getting one more man closer to gutting you like the fucking pig you are.”

Andrew is starting to think that they have just been traded off to a much worser fate.

“But-! We were tricked, the Ravens-” 

A strangled gasp slipped out of Gorilla.

“The Ravens? Don't make me fucking laugh. Tell me why the Ravens would be doing business with scum like you? I didn’t even know your fucking name until _just_ a few moments ago and yet you think you can come into my city and start shooting everything up.” 

The man makes a choked nose, “You shouldn’t speak with such arrogance boy, we have every-”

He is cut off by another knife embedding itself into a body, this time the person it hits comes falling into Andrew’s direct line sight, a pistol clattering out of their grip and sliding to Andrew’s feet. Andrew can’t breathe, his throat closing up. He hadn’t even heard the man coming, Andrew and Renee could have been dead in another twenty seconds. 

“Three.” Nathaniel hisses, “Now what was that? Finding your little spine now? But weren’t you just willing to kiss my ass seconds earlier though? Do you not like being reminded of your place? Did I hurt your feelings?” 

“Nathaniel-” Gorilla has stuttered to a stop. So Andrew picks this as his chance to lean on his heel and attempts to peer around his barrier. He squints, the adrenaline rushing throughout his body making it nearly impossible to focus on the sight in front of him. But he makes out the silhouette of Gorilla in a flimsy blood covered, white button up, his head is bowed and there is a hand curled around his throat. The man holding him stands still, like a black shadow but his back is to Andrew. He can’t makeout much besides the fact the man is wearing a long jacket like suit, a black ski mask is covering his head, skewing his vision more. 

Andrew doesn’t even see the man move, but suddenly there is another knife in the air. It hits a man who is standing near another metal crate. The man doesn’t even have time to look up before the knife lands home on his chest. His body crumples to the ground. 

“Two.”

Andrew notes the other people who have now also entered the room. All wearing matching ski masks, and suits. Their ties a deep blood red. 

_The Butcher’s men._

Gorilla is sickly pale now, his hands coming to grasp onto Nathaniel’s arms. “ _Plea-_ ”

“You will answer every single question I ask you.” Nathaniel snarls and Gorilla looks like he is about to hesitate, but then Nathaniel is hisses again: “ _Do you fucking understand_.” 

“Yes sir.” Gorilla gasps.

“Why are you here?” 

“The Ravens, sir, we were promised an exchange - to confirm an alliance. They requested Baltimore.” 

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t them!” Gorilla yells, “It was a set up by the fucking cops, they thought they could drag us here. You know there is a leak with the Butcher’s men so we thought word got out that the Butcher works for the Moryiamas. We assumed you were aware of the exchange.” 

“Assuming is a dangerous thing.” Nathaniel says, his rage barely concealed within the words. 

Andrew turns back to look at Renee because for a breath he thinks the Butcher is standing in the room with them. 

Andrew’s eyes drop to the gun resting by his foot. The one dropped by the body not laying far from him.

He picks it up.

“Please, sir, we are surrounded by officers at this moment. Let me get rid of them and we can have this conversation elsewhere.” 

Andrew moves to a crouch, the weight of a loaded gun in his hand brings back a familiar comfort, Renee's hand curls around his wrist again. 

“Wait.” She says, she is not gentle, she is not asking, she is demanding. Andrew stares at her.

_Why?_

Gorila is still trying to speak, “Please, Nathaniel I've done you a great favour and cleaned out the corrupted force. I-”

Nathaniel tuts, “Wrong answer.”

Andrew moves at the words, he levels the gun and jumps to his feet because he will not be slaughtered like an animal in hiding. The safety is already disarmed, all he has to do is aim and shoot and he’ll bring someone down with him. He’ll take out as many as he possibly can.

This time Andrew sees Nathaniel move. He drops Gorilla and both hands are moving under his jacket, black knives flying out of his hands. Nathaniel does not bother to turn his head to confirm where their targets are. The blades move with him, a skill so well known it’s embedded into his very body. The knives hit the remaining men, both crumpling to a bloody heap without another word.

Silence... and then.

“Zero.”

Gorilla scrambled back, his eyes crazed and frantic.

“What the fuck- my men! You killed all of my men you fucking psycho, your father will- he!” 

Nathaniel moves like a shadow, a dagger, a familiar dagger flashes out. Before Gorilla is pulled close to the other’s body, the blade pressed so neatly against the vulnerable flesh of his throat. 

“Do not make the mistake in thinking my father gets a say in what I do tonight.” Nathaniel hisses, “And do not make the mistake in thinking you get to live when you have threaten what is under my protection.”

“No! You-”

The man slashes his knife across Gorilla’s throat. 

His body crumples like bricks. His head hitting not far from the others, Nathaniel does not seem to care. 

“Sir.” A male voice says, “What do we do with the bodies?” 

“Leave them.” 

“Nate, your father though.” A girl’s voice jumps in, she has moved closer but Nathaniel doesn’t bother to glance up.

“I’ll deal with him, the message needs to be sent.”

Andrew should say something, he should, he should, but - the Butcher. He is talking about the Butcher.

“Nate-”

His body shifts, his head snapping towards the voice, the girl takes a quick step back, “Careful.” Nathaniel hisses, there is venom dripping from his mouth. “Now is not the time to question my authority.”

“The officers?” It’s the man speaking now. Andrew watches the man lightly push the girl behind him.

Nathaniel twitches, he pause, and then he turns. 

When Andrew had first seen cold blue eyes and knives, the connection he made was only in passing because the chances had always been - insolent. 

What Andrew had thought, what Andrew had been thinking, it was just a stupid theory, but it still shouldn’t hit him this hard, shouldn’t shock him but-

But when a familiar black mask and ice blue eyes lock with hazel, the air leaves his chest.

Fuck.

_Abram._

“Leave them as well, their backup will be here soon. They have no ammo left to shoot us with.”

Andrew doesn’t know how he knows that, he doesn’t know why Abram doesn’t look away from him. He doesn’t know why Abram is lying either, because Andrew is holding a loaded gun pointed directly at his fucking head.

Does he really have that much trust in Andrew not to shoot him. 

Andrew grits his teeth. He’ll show him, he’ll fucking fill him with lead, he doesn’t care. He’s a cop, his job is to protect-

Mads' face flickers into his mind for only a moment. Her head tucked onto Abram’s chest, safe, safe in the arms of... 

_Nathaniel Wesninski, the Butcher’s son._

_He’s alive._

_The Butcher's son is alive and he's just as dangerous as his father._

Andrew breath shutters _, maybe he's even more so._

“How many are injured?” Nathaniel says slowly. Andrew doesn’t let the tremble that dances through him show in his grip around the gun. 

Andrew thinks that question might be directed at him, but the girl responds anyways. 

“Only one seriously, Nate, he’ll make it until the ambulances arrive.” 

Flashing red and blue lights catch at the corner of Andrew’s eyes.

Abram nods once. 

“Your knives boss?” 

Andrew feels a full body twitch hit him, _Charles._

_This entire time, he’s been working with the Butcher’s men._

Abram raises his chin slightly, before he says. “Leave them. I already warned what will happen to those who threaten what’s under my watch. Make sure they know.”

Abram turns now, his team follows like they are one. They do not acknowledge Andrew's team, pressed flat against the walls. They do not acknowledge the other bodies that cover the floor. They do not acknowledge the growing sirens in the distance. 

Nathaniel - _Abram_ , moves like a true leader. He had seen it before, in the rare times when Abram had to command a room of kids, or annoyed criminals, but he still seemed hesitant, still seemed _human_. 

The man before him now moves like a machine, a weapon crafted from the finest mold. 

His eyes are cold, they’re freezing - they do not burn like how they did before. 

The gun clatters out of Andrew’s hands the moment the room is emptied. The adrenaline leaving him in a flash, and he struggles to find his footing to make himself stay up right. His body finally stumbling backwards and he falls into Renee’s waiting hands, he hears Dan crying out. Matt is on the ground, there is blood seeping from the taller man's body. Dan is screaming now. Matt is dying but Andrew can’t breathe either now. The sirens make his ears ring, his vision is hazy and he can see Renee is now hovering over him. 

Weird, he doesn’t remember falling.

He knows Renee is calling his name. He can’t hear it. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s fucked up. That he’s scared. He doesn’t know. 

He wishes Neil was here, Neil always knows what to say. He’s always there, he’s always - he’s always-

Andrew grunts something, Renee gives a sad smile in return, he hates, he hates it. He isn’t sure how much time is passing. But then her head is flying upwards, there is a commotion in the room and he knows backup is here. 

But instead of paramedics, his vision is suddenly filled with auburn hair. Those soft curls that Andrew dreamed of running a hand through are all sweaty. He can’t hate his mind now either, when he sees Neil’s flushed face above his. He can see scars slashed deeply across Neil's cheeks, they look like they hurt, he wonders why Neil always hid them behind that makeup. He wonders why he isn’t wearing the makeup now. He wonders why his mind is showing him this, but still Andrew is reaching. His hand is trembling, fingers begging to touch the skin at least once, because he’s selfish, he’s so selfish. But then Neil’s hand is wrapping around his wrist in return, pulling Andrew’s closer to him. It startles him, when he realizes he isn’t hallucinating because now Neil is pressing Andrew’s hand to his face for him. 

Andrew can feel the scars underneath his palm, can feel the warmth of Neil’s skin. Can feel it seeping into him, can feel the rapid breaths, can tell Neil isn’t talking to him. He’s just letting Andrew grasp at his face, his eyes burning into Andrew.

_How are you here? How are you even real? How can you? I hate you, why do I? Why, why, how, how-_

“Pipedream.” Andrew manages instead, his vision is darkening and he thinks he feels blood.

Why was he bleeding?

Neil’s eyes are wide, and for the first time Andrew realizes that they are filled with panic and they are blue, so, so blue. Burning blue.

Andrew passes out before he has time to wonder why Neil’s eyes weren’t hazel today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 secret identities down to only two! 
> 
> I told it was A reveal, not the big one ;)  
> also I wanted the end to feel jumbled together to try and show how Andrew feels so I hope it read okay.  
> thank you for reading, please comment your thoughts! also PLEASE listening to the song for this chapter, it's a vibe.


	10. Bloodshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard isn't dead but his skeletons are falling out of the closet again. 
> 
> Neil Josten knows he is a breath away from the fate he dreads, but he can't take his eyes off of his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus christ I'm so sorry this took so long. this chapter killed me, and so is life. sorry for any mistakes, I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. my apologies if it isn't the best, it is mostly set up. and it's long
> 
> TW; mention of sexual abuse / rape (crude language is used and isn't spoken about gently), mentioned past abuse, sexual harassment.
> 
> chapter song title; "bloodshot" by sam tinnesz

When Andrew wakes up, he’s in a hospital room and Neil is still beside him. 

He’s always hated waking up here, it isn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. Reality comes back to him in hazy circles, the smell of disinfectant, pungent in the air, the persistent beeping of the monitors strapped to his body through tubes and wires and soft voices that are just quiet enough he can’t make out their words. The only difference this time verses every other one, is that when he wakes up, he isn’t alone.

Neil is slumped in a black plastic chair, his head lolled over at an awkward angle, his legs tucked underneath himself and his arms wrapped around the back of his head. Andrew has a feeling he’s been here awhile if Neil has managed to fall asleep in such a position. 

If he was another man, maybe he would have smiled at the sight. 

His memory is slow to come back to him. The brief flashes of the white hot pain along his side that he didn’t notice until it was a few moments too late. Renee, Neil, _Abram._

The breath he had just spent so long working up, leaves him - in ice blue eyes, a black mask and a voice that could freeze an entire room. 

_Nathaniel Wesninski._

He had been working alongside the son of one of America’s most wanted criminals and he hadn’t had a _clue_.

But no, that wasn’t true either. Something, some part of Andrew had questioned it all. Had questioned those blue eyes that watched him with a sudden intensity, the brief flashes of a wicked nature and skills that would take a lifetime of training to master. 

But like all of America, he believed the news when they said that Nathaniel Wesninski was found dead alongside his mother. A crime that should have thrown his father in jail, but somehow, the crimes landed on one of the Butcher’s men. 

The fake grieving that Nathan Wesninski had showcased to the media that watched. 

If Nathaniel was alive, did that mean his mother was too? What the fuck was Nathaniel doing with a bunch of kids, what the fuck was his plan? 

Andrew’s eyes flew open, he hadn’t even realized that he had squeezed them shut in the first place. His hands twitched in the bed as he went to search for his flip phone. To contact Abram, to get the fucking truth out of him, _something._ But each movement he tried to make, caused a sharp throb of pain to zip up his side, the monitor on the wall increasing steadily with each motion.

So instead, Andrew shifts slightly, intending to reach out and wake Neil, hopefully to tell him to find his flip phone and than tell him to fuck off and go home to get some proper sleep. He hesitates though for a moment, remembering the rearing head and killer sharp eyes the last time he had forced Neil to wake up. Andrew definitely wasn’t in the position to defend himself right now. 

But he needed not to worry because at the slight movement and sharp hiss of pain from Andrew, Neil was jolting to life. His head snapping upwards, his body tense and ready to strike. He doesn’t miss the fact Neil’s eyes jump immediately to him, and then the doors, scanning the room for a threat that he wouldn’t find. A change in his usual pattern, he notes distantly, and Andrew isn’t sure when it had started.

“Hey, dumbass, it was just me.” Andrew murmurs, trying not to wince at how hoarse his throat feels when he does speak. He begins to wonder how long he had been out for.

Neil’s eyes are back on him, Andrew finds them a soft brown now, though his mind is supplying himself with the image of burning blues instead. He frowns, unsure. Andrew’s memory had never failed him unless he was on his ‘ _happy pills_ ’, but he isn’t sure what was fact or if everything he had felt in those fading moments were nothing more than his brain fizzing out from blood loss.

Andrew also notes that Neil looks almost… angry. His body is strung taunt and has tension laced throughout his shoulders, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he zeros in onto his target. Andrew almost finds it in himself to sigh.

“What is it Neil?” 

Neil’s eyes narrow, becoming dangerously slitted. “ _What is it?_ ”

Andrew almost has it in him to wince at the seething tone. 

“How does someone get shot and not fucking notice it!” Neil continues, his voice raising at an alarm speed while moving to jump to his feet. “You are always on my ass about this and that, and you take a bullet to your side and didn’t even fucking _notice it._ ” 

Andrew does wince at that, that would explain the sudden rush to his head and the faint numb throbbing he had felt after his dashing role from one crate to another. But still, it doesn’t justify the throbbing headache Neil has aggravated with his yelling.

“I was preoccupied.” He mutters, making a show of rubbing his temples. Neil doesn’t seem to catch on or care.

“You idiot. You fucking idiot. I told you that it was a trap but no one listened to me! Fuck! fuck, fuck-” 

Neil is pacing, his hands are in his hair and Andrew regretfully remembers his last few thoughts earlier. He isn’t sure why Neil is so strung up, why he’s freaking out and acting like this had any serious side effects. 

The thought jolts him, “Matt.” He says suddenly and Neil turns back to him, giving him a surprised but wiry look.

“He’ll be fine, he’s in a room down the hall. He’ll be getting a few weeks leave now though, that’s for sure.” 

Andrew nods again, settling back into the white sheets that make his nose crinkle in distaste. Memories he would rather forget lurking in the depths. 

“And don’t think you’re getting this out of this conversation.” Neil accuses, his face seems more pale than usual. Andrew glances over to the marks on Neil’s cheeks as well, the puckered white skin more clear in the white light of the hospital room. 

Andrew motions his hand at Neil’s face, “I’m taking a turn.” He says instead and that earns him a fully pissed off look again from his partner, “How’d you get those?” 

Neil blanches for a moment, Andrew clearly derailing his train of thought before he blinks, confused, and then raising a hand to his face and skimming the scars. “Oh,” He begins, a small frown tugging again at his lips and Andrew is about to tell him it’s fine and that he doesn’t need to know but Neil huffs. 

“There was a woman, she’s close with my family and has a temper as well as knives, sometimes I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. One day she did it somewhere I couldn’t hide it.” 

“Is?” Andrew echoes, “She’s still alive?”

Neil freezes for a moment, as if just now realizing his mistake before sighing, “As far as I’m aware, yes... she’s still alive.” 

He can’t help it, “Do you know her name?” 

Neil glares at him, “No, Andrew, stop. There’s nothing you can do about it now. What’s done is done.” 

“Bullshit, give me her name.” _Let me make her pay for what she did to you, let me protect you so she can never do it again._

“Don’t.” Neil repeats, firmer this time and his tone is a warning. “I want to move on, don’t dig it back up.” 

Andrew doesn’t want to agree, and he knows he’ll probably be doing some half hearted research into the gangs of Chicago, but for now he nods and stays silent. 

“I’m taking my turn now.” Neil butts back in, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

If Andrew was another man he would laugh, maybe even scoff at the words. But he can’t help but see the tremble in Neil’s hand when he moves forward and wraps it around the post at the end of his hospital bed. Brown eyes scanning his body repeatedly, like he thinks another wound could magically appear out of thin air. 

Andrew settles for rolling his eyes instead, “My job, idiot. If you don’t remember, I am a cop.” 

“Fuck off Andrew,” Neil snaps, “Everyone in that room was a cop and from what I heard you were the only one making risky shots.” 

“I didn’t have many other options.” He volleys back, “I had two shots left and two main aggressors, I did what I was trained to do.” 

“Like what? Get yourself fucking _killed_?”

“They were going to kill us anyways Neil, better go out like that then cowering at their feets.” 

“Maybe cowering at their feets would be a better idea if it meant getting out alive! Maybe listening to me when I tell you it’s a trap before you get yourself into situations where you need a fucking member of the mafia to save your asses!” Neil bites back. 

The reminder of Abram causes Andrew to flinch slightly, he doesn’t understand why Neil’s eyes darken more at the sight.

Andrew’s frown deepens, his headache pounding and anger building at his core. “Neil. Shut the fuck up, you aren’t a cop. You don’t know what it’s like to be in those situations.”

The words are already out when he knows he said the wrong thing because he watches as they single handedly leak the light from Neil’s eyes.

“Fuck you.” Neil breathes, his eyes downcast, “You know for a fact I know what it’s like to be in those situations.” His voice is quieter now when he speaks, he won’t meet Andrew’s eyes.

“You were an info broker for a small time gang, different things Neil.” Andrew is pissed off now, pissed off because he had no choice and he acted on what time he had left. Pissed off because he almost died and it scared him for the first time ever in his life. 

Neil laughs, it carries no humor but he doesn’t say anything else. His eyes looking out of the wide hospital windows. 

Andrew falls quiet too, trying to reign his temper back under his control. Trying not to think too deeply about how he wants to reach out and grab Neil’s arm. Wants to comfort the sullen man before him. He wants. He wants and that is something Andrew Minyard has not allowed himself to feel in a very long time. 

This time he has no control over it though. He can’t stop himself from wanting, no matter how hard he tries.

“I almost lost you.” 

Andrew pauses, sure that he heard wrong. But when he sees the look on Neil’s face he pulls up short, his heart rate picking up dangerously fast and he hears it echoed in the monitor behind him.

“What?” He asks, because some part of him doesn’t understand.

“I almost lost you, Andrew.” Neil seems to understand, turning again. “Wymack called me, thought I knew something that could help but I-” He trails off and Andrew wants to rip every wire off his body and bring Neil closer to him. “I was useless.” Neil finishes after a moment.

“Everyone was pretty useless.” Andrew tries instead, it doesn’t bring any light to Neil. “And anyways, if something _had_ happened to me, you would have been fine. Probably would have gotten less of an asshole for a partner anyways.”

He’s aiming to make Neil laugh, even though he’s speaking a silent truth. He knows Neil can hear it.

Neil’s face twists, hurt, fear and anger collide into one. “How can you even say that? Why do you always do that?” 

“Do what?”

“Act like your life is meaningless! Like everyone else’s is worth more than yours!” Neil snaps, “I would lose my fucking mind if something happened to you Andrew. Do you not realize how much you mean to everyone? To me? Fuck Andrew, when I heard- I-” He falters, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. Andrew can’t breathe. “I thought I would be too late. I _was_ too late.”

“Why do you care so much?” 

“Because you’re my partner asshole!” Neil yells but then hesitates, looking unsure of himself suddenly. “No one… I’ve never been allowed this, I’ve never been able to be... _me_. You don’t flinch or shy away from the things I tell you. I like being with you, I like solving stupid fucking crimes with you. I like you Andrew, and it would really fucking suck to lose you, alright? And I know a lot of people who would also agree with me.”

Andrew doesn’t know what to say to that, he doesn’t know how to explain to Neil that no one has cared enough before. That his life had been a burden, is a burden to every person in it. His brother, his brother who had such a bright future, had a mind and potential to become a successful doctor and now his chances of even getting into medical school is almost zero because of the criminal record he has _because of Andrew._ Nicky, who threw away his good years to raise him and Andrew can’t even say thank you to him, can’t even humour him with a skype call once a week. His co-workers, who hate him, fear him, consider him a charity case that Wymack picked up. Abram, who is the son of a blood thirsty criminal who still managed to be a better person than Andrew at times. _Neil,_ who is so broken but somehow still holds onto Andrew’s sharp edges and lets them break him even more. 

He has nothing to offer to other people besides his mediocre protection. 

_Fuck_ , before he had to make deals with people to even keep them close to him. He was always a burden unless he was useful. 

He tries a stiff nod, to let Neil know he’s heard him. But he can’t promise he believes him.

He swallows the vomit that rises in his throat. He’d made it barely three years without someone using him, he’d made it-

The bareness of his arms snaps him back almost violently fast. 

“My bands.” He gasps, “Where the fuck are my-”

“I have them.” Neil replies quickly, moving over to where he had been sleeping and pulling the black fabric from his coat pocket and he hands them over to Andrew. Who grabs them, too fast for someone who wants to pretend he doesn’t care about anything. He notes that Neil does not look down, he doesn’t search for the scars on his wrists as he pulls them all. 

The reality of the situation is hitting him now, someone had to have undressed him - he had been unconscious and someone could have - anyone could have - 

He drops his head into his hands and curls his knees upwards, his breath comes out harshly because he remembers the last time he was somewhere with white sheets and walls that smelt like disinfectant. Hands are grabbing his legs, his arms, he can’t move - he couldn’t defend himself. They saw him, his scars, all of them. He had no choice, again, no choice, _why doesn’t he ever get a fucking choice._

“Andrew!” Neil is blocking his vision now, he’s carefully avoiding touching Andrew but he’s taking up all the space he can, “Andrew you’re fine. No ones going to touch you, I promise.” 

Neil _, who Andrew had told one night about the men who never stopped, who never listened to his please._ Neil _, who didn’t look at him with pity, didn’t tell him that he was sorry._ Neil _, who just met his eyes and said, “You survived them.”_

He knows Neil means it in a different way right now, he never told Neil about Proust. Never told him about those days. But his body and mind flinch away at the thought, he’s angry, so fucking angry because he’s acting weak he’s-

“I don’t need your fucking protection.” He manages to snarl out, “I don’t need anything.”

“I know.” Neil says, “But you can’t always be on guard all the time. Take a rest, Andrew. No one saw anything, besides the doctor. I didn’t look, and I made sure the blanket was covering your arms whenever someone came in to see you.” 

Andrew grits his teeth, “What do you want? A fucking gold star?” 

“No, I want you to breathe for a second.” Neil snaps over the panic, “You’re letting your mind control you.” 

Andrew can’t stop it, he can’t stop the feeling of hands crawling over his body. Of someone whispering in his ears, of the pain, all of it. Of the tightrope that he walks everyday but has now wrapped around his throat and is pulling him into the memories he desperately wants to forget.

“Andrew, do you need me to call someone? Do you need me to leave?” 

_No._ He thinks, because the thought of Neil leaving somehow hurts him more. He manages a stiff shake of his head, manages to make himself look up to Neil’s face. 

_Help me. Help me._

Maybe it’s because his eyes linger on his scars for too long or Neil is remembering the night before, but before he knows it, Neil is softly saying, “You can touch me if it helps ground you.” 

Andrew isn’t sure why he listens, why he stretches his shaky hand out and touches the scar again. Pressing his fingertips lightly against it. He isn’t sure why the rough skin makes him forget the hands wrapping around his throat in his mind, he isn’t sure why the contact ring around Neil’s eyes, just another sign of his lies, settles something in Andrew’s stomach. 

_They must be blue._

The panic is there, the anger hasn’t died completely but the scars under hand are something new. They are something that doesn’t remind him of days he would rather forget. They remind him that, against all odds, someone in this world wants him to stay. That someone hasn’t asked him to change. Or wants him too. 

When Neil’s eyes flutter close he skims a finger along his cheek bone as gently as he can manage. The soft exhale of Neil’s breath brushes along his wrist and his stomach twists. He can’t kiss him, not here, not now. He doesn’t think he can with the memories lying in wait. But he wants, he _wants_ \- 

And Neil leans into his touch, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, Neil wants too.

He shoves the thought aside as quickly as it comes. Andrew is not that lucky, he would know if Neil felt anything like that, he can’t ignore Neil telling him he doesn’t swing. And he can’t ignore the fact that he can’t do relationships. Neil deserves more than a hookup, he’s more than that to Andrew. 

He- maybe, maybe he could...

“Oh, by the way, you have to help me stop Wymack from firing me.” 

Andrew stills, his motions. “ _What_.”

* * *

Andrew gets out of the hospital a day later.

Neil waits, his back pressed up against the hospital room’s wall, one foot resting at the edge. His eyes are distant as he toys with his fingers and tries to let the humming of the machines around him drown out the noise of his mind.

Nathaniel doesn’t regret doing what he did. He doesn’t for a moment.

He already had an idea what was going to happen, he had already warned his men and taken some of his father’s and been prepared for an attack. But Nathaniel had no idea how bad the situation had actually gotten. Not until he had picked up the phone call from Wymack and heard Wymack’s gasping voice.

Nathaniel remembers seeing red, remembers a rage that lined him up so close to his father, and he remembers Andrew. Remembers turning and seeing the blood seeping down his side, the hazy look in his eyes. He remembers Matt, sprawled in Dan’s lap as she held her hands to his stomach and sobbed. 

He remembers almost losing it completely. Barely able to cling to his false disinterest. Barely able to stop himself from killing every Bearcat in the room and running to Andrew. 

The moment he had walked out of the warehouse he had torn his mask off, torn his black jacket from his shoulders and shoved them to Allison. 

“Nate! Don’t you dare! It might be dark but you don’t have your contacts-” 

Nathaniel hadn’t listened. Hadn’t cared. He didn’t know what he was going to tell backup when they swarmed the building moments after him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Nathaniel had left in a rush and had his running clothes underneath his jacket, he would have blown his cover to every officer in Baltimore. 

But he _still_ didn’t care. 

He stayed with Andrew. Took Andrew’s hand when he had reached out and tried to fight the trembling of his soul. 

But now, Andrew was awake and recovering. 

And now, Nathaniel had to face the consequences to his actions,

...soon enough.

Now, he stands and waits for Andrew to finish changing and exit his hospital room. He doesn’t care that he’s hovering, he doesn’t care that everyone thinks he’s a lunatic for not leaving Andrew’s doorstep, but he wasn’t risking it. He’s been avoiding his father, his father’s men, and he’s father’s closest ‘employees’. He isn’t risking one of them going the dirty route and digging out Andrew. Even if Neil is sure his father is unaware of how much Andrew means to him… or he wasn't aware before Neil killed eleven people in order to protect Andrew. 

His phone hums in his back pocket, he grabs it and glances down - unsurprised of the contact.

 **_Ally_ ** _\- the rest of the kids are good. six more left without any homes we can get them too but charles and i are looking into a lady named Bee? it looks promising anyways tho could use ur help_ _  
_**_Ally_ ** _\- nate u need to speak with ur father soon. hes too quiet rn_

 **_Ally_ ** _\- he has things he can use against you now. please be careful._

The next ping on his phone is an email notification, anxiety instantly causes Neil to glance over to the still closed hospital door before switching to his email. 

It had been the only way to keep tabs on what Andrew had been texting, ‘Abram’ instead of carrying the burner phone with him. Sure, it left a trail, but it was easier to explain than having the actual burner phone in his possession. 

It was another message. 

**_03_ ** _\- Don’t make me hunt you down, Nathaniel._

He reads it again, and again, and again. But he doesn’t respond, like he’s declined every call and cleared every message from his phone besides sending Andrew a final one. 

**_10 -_ ** _Stop digging. My side of the deal is in place still. This is me keeping it. Don’t look or dig into the butcher anymore or me. The kids will be safe because of you. - thank you, you were amazing._

He doesn’t know why he adds the last part. But he doesn’t think about it either. 

Neil shoves his phone into his back pocket. He didn’t regret it, he couldn’t. Andrew is alive, the entire precinct is alive. 

He would rather Andrew hate him, loath him, dream of his bloody death every night - than Andrew be dead. 

_Never get attached Abram._

His mother’s voice echoes in the back of his mind. Small rules that maybe he should have listened to … but - 

His vision is swarmed by grinning faces, Matt’s spiked black hair and Dan’s curls, Seth’s snide comments and Renee’s soft smile that can dance on being too sharp. But more so is blond hair, gruff voice, calloused fingers and palms that carried a heat that bordered on fire. Hazel eyes, flecks of gold. 

People who cared… people who he-

The sound of voices brought Neil reiling back to the present. His head snapped to Andrew’s hospital door where the sound was raising steadily. 

“Fuck _off._ ” Andrew's voice is bordering on shouting which is unusual for him, and that is all it takes for Neil to raise his hand and pound it on the door, deciding to offer his partner backoff if another doctor is grinding on his case. 

Another grumbling noise follows before a sharp, “Give me a second,” and the door is wrenched open to reveal a disheveled looking Andrew. He’s wearing a long sleeve back shirt and black jeans, his phone pressed to his ear and a sharp glare leveled on Neil.

“Ah.” Neil says, realizing his mistake and Andrew rolls his eyes before stepping out of the doorway. Neil follows him in and tries not to snoop in on the argument, he can tell Andrew’s pissed off by how he paces the room. A slight furrow between his brow.

“I was just talking to my partner jesus fuck.” He hisses into the device, returning to his conversation without sparing much of a glance at the other. Neil raises his eyebrow at the tone, wondering who could manage to piss Andrew off like this. Well, besides Neil himself.

A muffled male voice comes through the speaker - _“Oh so he’s finally around now? How convenient.”_

Neil blinks slightly at the anger in the other’s tone. Andrew frowns. 

“He has nothing to do with this Aaron, he isn’t even a cop.” 

Ah, he thinks. Aaron. That explains the anger.

_“You barely are either! You do more illegal things than half the people you arrest Andrew.”_

Andrew rolls his eyes at that, “Boo hoo, take it up with my boss. Tell Nicky to stop trying to facetime me, and goodbye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, moving to hang up when the voice is cackling through again.

_“Fuck off, I know you don’t feel shit in that cold little heart of yours but some of us care. Even if you continue to fuck up our lives and can’t even be bothered to answer your fucking phone, some of want to make sure you aren’t fucking dead Andrew!”_

Neil watches Andrew freeze at Aaron’s words, his face going slack and into a perfectly blank mask, his eyes staring blankly at the phone in his hand. Neil feels anger shoot up his core, and starts moving towards Andrew, intent on ripping the phone away from him and giving _‘Aaron’_ a piece of his mind. The man already seemed to hate him, mind as well give him a reason too.

But before he can make it, Andrew has swallowed back his shock and gives a humourless laugh.

“Low blow brother.”

_“Prove to me otherwise that you have even given a fuck about us then if you want me to act differently.”_

“-that motherfucker.” Is slipping out of Neil’s mouth and Andrew’s eyes snap up.

“Say hi to Katelyn for me.” Andrew mutters, before clicking the end call button and his phone fades to black.

There’s a moment of silence between them as Andrew moves to grab his bag that is resting on the end of the hospital bed and Neil’s mouth is dry from the anger that has slapped him sideways. 

Logically, he knows that he shouldn’t bring it up. But he can’t help but ask, “Does he always talk like that to you?”

Andrew swings his bag over his shoulder with a sigh, before shrugging, “He used to be worse. Complicated backstory.” 

He says it sarcastically but Neil knows there is a level of truth to the statement. He opens his mouth to ask but Andrew shakes his head.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it, not here.” 

Neil snaps his mouth closed with a click. Before nodding his head and following Andrew out of the hospital. 

At the car, Neil pulls Andrew’s keys from his pocket. The ones he had been given after Andrew had woken up and realized that Neil really had no mode of transportation except for his feet. He shakes them at Andrew who shakes his head in response.

“Drive us to the precinct.” 

Neil frowns,”You’re on medical leave.” 

“And I have something I need to look into.”

Neil pauses, before agreeing quietly. Because he has a funny feeling that the thing Andrew wants to look into is in fact, him. 

He hopes he’s covered his trail as much as everyone who works in law enforcement complains Nathaniel Wesninski has. 

And he hopes that he gets to keep Andrew in his life for a bit longer.

-

The car ride was silent. Andrew sitting in the passenger side, his eyes focused outside and Neil guided them towards the precinct. Andrew’s body was still strung tight with tension, his phone clenched tightly in his grip. Neil wanted to ask about the phone call again, but he tried to keep his lips shut and his eyes focused somewhere else. He knew Andrew had troubles with the few family members he had, mainly because he never spoke about them. The same haunted look ghosting across his face when someone mentions his brother - Aaron, in passing in the precinct. Primary it was only ever Wymack, but Neil watched - but said nothing.

But he still couldn’t shake the resentment seething in Aaron’s words and tone. 

“His name was Drake.” 

When Andrew first says it, it takes a few moments for Neil to even registar the words. But once he does, he slows the car slightly. Sending a look over to Andrew who is still refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Drake was my old foster brother from a home I was in for a few years. His mother, I -” Andrew hesitates, the words getting stuck in his throat before Neil watched him visibly swallow and continuing. “She wanted to adopt me but there is always a catch when it comes to good things.” His eyes for the first time glance over to Neil, before looking back, Neil tries to hide the flinch it causes him. 

“Drake raped me almost every night, for three years.” Andrew spits the words out like venom and Neil’s heart is ice in his chest. He knew that this had happened to Andrew, he knew from the confession he had made to Abram on that roof, and from the small truths he would offer Neil. 

_“I hated it when they would tie me down.”_

He knew but he never knew how bad it really was.

 _At least three years,_

Neil flexes his fingers over the steering wheel. His grip so tight his knuckles are white and Nathaniel is hissing beneath his skin for blood but he keeps his eyes on the road. Giving Andrew the privacy he needs to keep going.

“I let him. Because I thought that was the only way I would have Cass. But then Aaron found me, and everything went to shit. Drake was obsessed with the idea of fucking twins, obsessed with the idea of doing what he did to me to Aaron and I couldn’t let him. That’s how I ended up in Juvie, how I ended up getting noticed by Wymack who would take on troubled kids and turn them into cops. Aaron didn’t think I could do it - not after what I did to his bitch of a mother.” 

_Car accident_ , she died in a car accident. Neil didn’t need to look at Andrew to know that it was far from that - an accident. 

Neil could feel Andrew staring at him, probably waiting for a reaction but Neil had nothing to offer. 

He did however meet hazel eyes, _you did what you had too._

“Aaron hated me, but we had a deal so we stuck together under Nicky as our guardian and I went to school to become an officer and he went to school to become a doctor.” A humorless smile crossed Andrew’s face. “Except I made a pesky friend in university who brought bad people after me - those people decided to set up a tiny family reunion for me. Aaron walked in on Drake fucking me like I was thirteen again.”

The disgust is clear in Andrew’s voice and Neil opens his mouth to say _something_ to argue him but Andrew is shaking his head and raising a hand. 

“Aaron beat the living shit out of Drake with a lacrosse stick. It should have been passed off as self defiance for me, but instead it was considered a ‘misunderstanding.’ Drake got out free because my brother had a homophobic past and I was a psychopath who would engage in sexually activities that would leave me unable to move for a week without being in pain. Aaron got charged with assault and his dreams of ever becoming a doctor are pretty much shit all.” Andrew snorts, devoid of humor. “Doesn’t stop him from trying though.” 

Neil gritted his teeth together, “That doesn’t give him a fucking right to say those things to you Andrew.” 

“Can you blame him, Neil?” Andrew eyed him, his face a carefully crafted mask. One that Neil hadn’t seen for months. “Aaron’s always been a dreamer, and I stole his biggest one from him.” 

“Yet you’ve always done everything you can to keep him safe. Made it so he could one day make those dreams possible, right? Fuck him for using the one time he fought for you against you. Only cowards do that.” 

Neil wants to make someone bleed. To make someone suffer for the things that have happened to Andrew, but all he has is an open road and the subject to that anger sitting next to him. Neil has never been a man for comfort. How is someone supposed to comfort when they themselves have never received such action? 

Andrew hasn’t said anything, his gaze is far away and his hands have fallen limp in his lap. His phone rests there, face down. It’s buzzing. 

He knows that it is Aaron phoning back. He wonders if he is the type to apologize. 

“You are a good man, Andrew.” 

That snaps Andrew’s head towards him. Disbelief crossing the blond’s features as he stares at Neil. 

“I wasn’t called a Monster all university for no reason Neil.” He snaps back, and Neil lets the anger show on his own expression. 

“I know monsters.” - _he sees one every time he looks in the fucking mirror -_ “you are not one. And do not insult me by saying you are. A monster doesn’t use his body to keep those he cares about safe from fire. He doesn’t use his claws to kill the bad guys. Fuck that Andrew, you are the farthest thing from that, you did what he had to survive. It isn’t your responsibility to explain that to everyone who is lucky enough to be naive to that.”

Neil flicks the blinker to turn into the entrance of the office. Andrew is still staring at him. Something unreadable in his eyes as he opens his mouth slightly to speak before closing it again. 

Neil doesn’t need a response, he doesn’t need anything. He just needs Andrew to hear it, and hopefully believe it. 

That’s why the sharp pinch to his arm has him yelping in surprise and whipping over to look back to his partner. Andrew’s brows are drawn together in open confusion, but he looks lighter now. 

“Stop being such a fucking pipedream Josten.” 

With that he turns and opens the passenger door before sliding out. 

Neil’s skin still simmers where Andrew touched - and he doesn’t want to think about how close that touch could be to the last. 

-

They walk into the precinct and almost immediately get thrown out. 

“Oh no fucking way Minyard, turn your ass around. You aren’t coming back here for another week - _at least.”_ Wymack’s booming voice cuts through pretty much any coherent thought Neil is supporting. 

“I’m not in to do any fucking work old man. Chill out. I just want to look over some files and I’ll be out of your hair.” Andrew says dismissively, waving a feeble hand in the Chief's direction before attempting to make his way to his desk. Neil notes that both Matt and Dan are missing. Seth is sitting in silence, his head down as he flicks through something, Renee is resting on the wall not far away. Their team dwindled shockingly compared to the other officers moving throughout the room. 

Neil doesn’t notice that Wymack is staring at him, “Josten talk some sense into your partner.” He grumbles and Neil shrugs, doing his best to look innocent. 

“So... he’s still my partner?” 

Wymack’s glare flantens even more at him, “Of course he is, you dipshit. Managed to get the higher ups to let your little stunt go by chocking it up to shock. So don’t go pissing anyone else off while you’re at it.” 

Neil offers him a sheepish smile at that and Andrew openly rolls his eyes, grabbing onto his shoulder and steering him away from their boss and towards their desk. 

Except there is someone already there. Someone else already flicking through Andrew’s - _their -_ files; and Neil’s entire world freezes around him. 

Because he would recognize that black hair, deeply tanned skin, face marrared with a black tattoo that rests just under forest green eyes, anywhere.

_Kevin Day._

Kevin Day, one of the few people that could probably look at Neil and know who he was. Know that he was the boy that would come around when there were meetings with the Raven’s. The boy that would be forced to sit through each meeting with his father at his side, the boy who still was forced to sit with the children at dinner time. The boy that would leave at the side of men much more powerful than the mere Raven’s.

The kid who helped his father cut up a man, while Kevin sat and watched. 

Kevin looks up, and of course, recognition is the first emotion that crosses his face. 

_No, no, no, I’m not ready._

“Well you haven’t aged a day.” Kevin is saying and Neil can’t breathe. He wants to grab Andrew and run, he wants to grab the knife strapped to his back and drive it through Kevin’s throat before he can speak - he wants, he wants, he wants-

“Get the fuck away from my shit if you don’t want another fucked up hand.” 

It takes too long for Neil to register that Andrew is speaking and shoving past Neil angrily. Storming towards Kevin who is already scrambling out of the chair, gangly legs shooting out to catch himself as everyone turns at the commotion.

“Jesus fuck Andrew, you’re still a fucking… fuck.” 

Andrew raises an eyebrow, “Clever, Day.” 

Kevin makes a sputtering noise, his face darkening at the attention now directed at him. Andrew valiant ignores him and starts grabbing at the files spewed across his desk, growing progressively angier by each passing moment. 

“Busy boy.” He snarls, now deciding to whip a murderous glare over his shoulder. “Please do remind me Day, is it legal to go digging through private investigation files that do not belong to you? Or did they skip that in fed school.” 

Kevin glowers at Andrew, “We both have a common enemy here Andrew, those files should be public record. More importantly, I should be able to see them. 

“Ahh, there’s that entitlement again Kevin. You really didn’t grow out of it huh?”

“Andrew.” Kevin hisses, pushing his way closer again but pausing when Andrew’s glare sharpens considerably. “Please, we need-”

“ _Don’t_.” Andrew snarls, “It’s only been a little over a year and you’ve already forgotten how much I hate that word?”

“I’m sorry!” Kevin throws his hand up in agitation, “I’ve been working on this case for years, Andrew. Come on, you’re the officer with the most information on the Butcher and now you’ve had the first confirmed sighting of Nathaniel Wesninski in eleven years.” 

_Ha, that’s ironic._

“Give me a reason to care, Kevin. I didn’t see anything besides a shadowy black figure with lots of pointy objects.” Andrew tapped his head in an overdone gesture, “You’re the FBI agent, figure it yourself. Neil stop standing around and get over here.” 

Ah, Neil’s body jolted at the reminder of his name and the fact his cover hasn’t been blown yet. Which seemed, logically impossible for the fact Neil wasn’t even in a super thick disguise. Yes he wore eye contacts and his hair was dark enough in some lighting to pass off as brown. But Kevin had seen him before, had been a significant part of him growing up in a criminal family. Hell, Kevin was familiar with his _father._

But...

Neil had forgotten, Kevin Day was also a massive fucking idiot too. 

Kevin glances up and stares at Neil, a frown tugging at his lips. “Why is your civilian consultant here? He isn’t any use to us.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes before snapping out, “He’s my partner. Fuck off.” Before waving Neil aggressively more so over. 

Hesitantly, and with his eyes focusing on Kevin. He slides into his chair still seated across from Andrew and tugs on the loose paper towards him, his eyes flicking down and he catches the sight of a familiar roof top and familiar writing.

_Iche Bedarue._

God, Neil can’t even remember the last time he uttered those words that he once held so dear. In the past months, every person’s blood he had drawn, he felt deserved it. His finger traces the photo idly, and Andrew curses under his breath while trying to reorganize his desk. 

“I can’t fucking stand you Kevin. There’s a reason I didn’t accept that fucking apprenticeship and it is entirely because of you.” 

Kevin, who has pulled another chair up to Andrew’s desk and taken to snooping at other paper’s stops, his glare is cutting, but weak. “You wasted an incredible opportunity and talent. You would be an unstoppable member if you would just _try.”_

“Ah and in there lies the problem, Kevin, I don't give a fuck.”

“ _Andrew_.” 

“Kevin.”

“Um.” 

Neil’s addition is rather useless, but seems to remind Kevin of something. Neil does not like the glint in his green eyes.

“Ah, right. Neil Josten is it? I read your file.” Kevin sticks a hand out, waiting for a handshake but Neil doesn’t take it. The small smirk from Andrew is worth the undignified huff from the FBI agent. “What do you have there.” 

Before Neil can protest, Kevin reaches over and snatches the paper away. Neil meets Andrew's eyes, letting the exasperation bleed through. His heart still rapidly pounding against his chest. Because in front of him are stacks of papers about _him,_ about finding out about who he truly is, evidence, leads, things that could paint a red arrow directly at him. And the person who collected it all is sitting across from him with an impassive look on his face and for some reason, the only reason Neil’s heart settles back into his chest. 

If anyone is going to take down Nathaniel, he wants it to be Andrew. 

“See!” Kevin exclaims, pointing aggressively to the photo he holds, “My theory of Nathaniel straying from his father’s ways is becoming more and more probable. This isn’t the first case, or show of mercy I’ve seen in the past twenty four hours. If anything, Nathaniel is the reason the FBI has managed to start being able to build a case against Nathan now.” 

Now that was news to Neil. A small pay off to all the hours of tireless work he’s put into. 

Andrew taps a finger on his desk, “It would support the reason why he didn’t kill any officers.”

“But he said you were under his protection. This precinct for some reason is something the Butcher’s son deems worthy of his protection. I don’t understand it.” Kevin murmurs, and Neil watches Andrew’s gaze drop. His fingers pausing, because of course Andrew knows why everyone is under protection - and if he tells Kevin he might find himself in a jail cell. 

“Did you ever meet him.” Andrew asks instead. It seems to take Kevin slightly off guard if the slight intake of breath means anything. Neil freezes, his own anxiety also spiking, now is not the time to have Kevin feelings nostalgic. 

The taller man bites his lip, “I did. A few times when we were younger and when we still met with the main branch of the Moriyama’s.”

Andrew's gaze is unwavering, “What was he like then?”

Kevin shakes his head, “We were young, Andrew. We were kids, all kids act the same. We all change.”

“No, not always. So, what was he like? How did he act those few times you met him.” 

Kevin is silent for a few moments before he speaks again. When he does the words are spoken softer than any of the others before. 

“He was terrified.” 

-

Neil and Andrew end up spending the entire day with Kevin Day. Who soon takes over the entire precinct, wheeling out a white board as they slowly start to try and put together some type of case against both the Butcher and his son. 

Neil tries to sit still, tries to avoid looking at his father’s face, tries to avoid Kevin’s eyes when he speaks and tries to fight the oncoming panic attack that threatens to wash over him. 

_Was._

Kevin had said that Nathaniel _was_ terrified; but no, that wasn’t true. Nathaniel had never stopped being terrified. 

He has days left. He can tell. Just days until this is all over. Until Andrew will want to point a gun at his head and fire, days until the first taste of family he had ever gotten would be ripped away. Days until he either dies killing his father, or trying too. 

Nathaniel _is_ terrified. 

When he looks over, Andrew is already looking at him. Then his hand is reaching out and grasping at his neck, steering Neil away from the room, away from Kevin Day and away from the growing manhunt. 

Andrew takes him outside to the alleyway and pulls two cigarettes out and lights them both in his mouth before passing on to Neil. Neil takes it but doesn’t bother taking a drag, just letting the smell wash over him and let the steady presence of Andrew at his side calm him. 

“You’re looking awfully like a rabbit.” Andrew says finally, flicking the ash of his cigarette and regarding him with a blank expression. But there is a lingering warmth behind his eyes, a line of concern on his forehead. Neil bites his lip. 

“Everything’s just been a lot the past few days.” He says softly and Andrew makes a noise of agreement, before shuffling closer to him.

Their shoulders touch, heat quickly spreads throughout Neil and he wants to reach out and _touch._ But he doesn’t, instead keeping his eyes focused on the profile of Andrew’s face. 

Andrew blows out smoke and raises an eyebrow at him. “Staring.” 

Neil smiles lightly for the first time in hours, “Hard not too.” 

The tips of Andrew’s ears grow red at the admission, and he flicks the rest of his cigarette away in favour of turning to face Neil. His shoulder pressed against the wall, and he reached out a hand, letting it hover just by Neil’s cheek. When Neil nods, he places it lightly against the raised scars, his eyes tracking the movement. As a finger so gently skims his cheek, Neil shivers. 

Andrew’s eyes drop to Neil’s lips and Neil has never wanted so badly before in his life. 

Andrew swallows hard, his thumb pausing its movement, “Neil.” He manages, “Neil can I-” 

Neil’s phone blares to life in his pocket, jolting them both away from each other as Neil scrambled to grab it and Andrew pushes himself away. 

“Hello?” He asks, pressing the device to his ear and not even bothering to check the ID before Allison’s voice is crackling to life on the other end.

_“Nate, he’s asked for you. Where are you.”_

Neil’s heart stops, but the nerves leave his body in a whoosh. The mask of Nathaniel sliding home without question at the realization. 

“Work. Pick me up.” 

With that he hangs up, his body cold and stiff when he makes eye contact with Andrew who has pulled out another cigarette. The moment from before shattered - 

“Allison needs me, I gotta go.” 

Andrew doesn’t spare him a glance, just a stiff nod and a rough; “Drive safe.” 

He refuses to look back when he leaves the alleyway.

-

Nathaniel Wesninski was a dead man. 

The door swings shut behind him, Allison flanks him with her own suit and tie done neatly and pressed to her chest. He can hear her quiet but rapid breaths, can sense the slight quiver to her body - because no matter what bravo Allison can hold. No one can walk into the Butcher’s den without their survival instincts screaming at them to run. 

Nathaniel doesn’t bother to straighten his tie. He doesn’t meet the eyes of his father’s men who mill around the entrance. Their own stares burning into his side and he narrowly avoids sneering at them until they look away. 

Allison pauses in front of the door that will lead them into his father’s room. Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she shot a hesitant look back at Nathaniel. 

“He’s going to get you through your head, Nate.” She warns but it’s something that Nathaniel has heard enough of.

He gives her a grim look, “No, he’s going to use you. Keep your knives on you.”

With that he pushes past her and places his hand against the door and swings it open. 

His father stands with Lola and Patrick DiMaccio on either side of him. His expression cold and emotionless, his hands clasped in front of him with his shoulders drawn back. Lola had a lopsided grin and manic eyes like she usually did but paired with DiMaccio’s blank expression, it stood out more than usual. 

Nathaniel stood in the centre of the room, keeping his gaze steady on the three in front of him but making sure to be aware of Allison’s whereabouts. His knives were a burning comfort on his side, as he told himself to breathe when he locked eyes with his father. 

“You asked for me?” 

A sneer slipped across his father’s face for a moment. Blue eyes slitted dangerously toward Nathaniel but he refused to let himself be openly bothered. 

“You killed eleven men, Nathaniel, eleven men.” His voice was steady. Nathaniel tensed, his father was only calm when he was pretending to be. 

“You’ve killed hundreds, what is your point Father?” 

Lola cackled, a trill sound as she spun a knife in the air before flinging it past Nathaniel’s ear. He managed to hold his ground through gritted teeth as Lola saunted forward. 

“Ooooh Junior! When you talk like that it makes me excited.” She flicked a tongue out from her lips before winking at him. “Nathan, we’ve truly created a monster.” 

His father barely acknowledged the woman as he pressed his lips together in a thin line, his finger drumming along on his arm. 

“Why would you kill eleven men Nathaniel? Men that could have been allies.” 

That made Nathaniel frown, “Allies? Since when were we in business with lowly town gangs?”

“Any benefits are still benefits.” Nathan responded smoothly, before he jutted a chin out and motioned for DiMaccio to move forward. Nathaniel tensed, his hands dropping for his knives before he realized that the bodyguard was moving behind him. 

Allison didn’t say anything as DiMaccio reached for her, but Nathaniel flung the dagger anyways. It cut off DiMaccio’s path and brought him to a halt before her.

“Touch her and it’ll be in your throat next.” 

A soft tut sounded from behind, as his father also stepped forward. “Nathaniel, your manners are quite poor these days. Are you forgetting the people who raised you?”

His stomach, his thighs, his back and face throbbed in the reminder. No, no he could never forget.

“You requested I bring my secondhand with me, and I only agreed on the pretense that she remains unharmed. Do not tell me that you are now breaking your promises as well Father?” Nathaniel fired back, and Lola giggled again before bounding forward and wrapping an arm across his shoulders. 

“Junior, we aren’t going to harm her! Ally is my little girl, my fellow.” She purred, pressing her lips against Nathaniel’s ear and digging her nails into his skin. “We just need an incentive for you to tell us the truth when we ask you what’s going on!” 

With that, DiMaccio lunged and spun Allison around, and to her credit. She didn’t flinch. Letting the meaty arm be pressed against her throat as her back was pressed to DiMaccio’s front. Nathaniel didn’t go for his knives this time. 

_Play the game._

Something bitter and heavy rested in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he could play this game anymore. 

His father seemed pleased with Nathaniel’s obedience as he moved to stand in front of his son and cocked his head to his side. 

“Tell me son, you killed eleven men to save a couple of officers. Why?”

“Because they were in my way.” Nathaniel grits out, trying to meet his father’s eyes

Lola’s nails dig deeper, he refuses to wince.

“Don’t lie.” His father warns and Nathaniel watches DiMaccio tighten his hold and Allison’s slight wince that crossed her features. Her blue eyes pleading when they meet, not to save her, but to save himself. 

Nathaniel feels like he’s going to vomit. 

“You are my son. Do not make the mistake of thinking I do not know when you are lying.” 

Nathaniel feels it, the darker part of him. He calls to it, begs for it, coaxs it forward. 

_Please._

_Let me be a monster I am._

_Come. Come. Come._

“Because I wanted to.” He hissed, “Because I wanted to watch them bleed.” 

He wasn’t lying this time. Lola still dug her nails in deeper but he assumed for a different reason. His father on the other hand doesn’t have the gall to look surprised, just tilts his chin up and motions for him to continue. 

“Why?”

“They touched what wasn’t theirs to touch.” Nathaniel snarls, keeping his voice even. He sees Allison look away, probably in her attempt to salvage her good thoughts towards him. “They paid the consequences.” 

Lola nodded in agreement against his neck, her fingers dancing along his jaw. 

“ _Oh_ Junior.” She moans, “Just like your daddy.”

Nathaniel does not smile, meeting his father’s gaze and he doesn’t like the dangerous glean to them. “Yes.” He says, “Just like you.”

Some part of him is screaming, _don’t, you are nothing like him._ It sounds like his mother

The other has already accepted what he refuses too. He sees his mother staring at him when he comes up from being in the basement with his father.

_“Wipe that smile off your face Abram.”_

His father grins, the Butcher's smile spreading across his lips and Nathaniel’s body flinches back as it always does. 

“Oh yes my boy, just like how we killed your mother together? Right?” His father's smile grows.

_I am a monster. I am a monster. I am a monster. I am a monster. I have to be a monster._

Nathaniel does not flinch, as his father shoves Lola off of him and he stalks forward. His voice close enough to his ear to make him shiver as he grabs onto Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I’ll never forget that night, the final test I had for you before I decided.” His father whispers.

“You loved blood my boy, you loved to watch it spill just like me. It’s in your roots. Just like how you gutted that man when you were eight-” 

Nathaniel can still remember his screams. Kevin Day sits just out of view.

“-you remember your poor little puppy, right? You tried to say you didn’t want to do it, but the moment you sunk that knife in, that little facade you have, that little game you play. The little lie you’ve crafted to keep yourself going - pretending you are a good man who was forced to be a monster, it melted away and I saw you. Oh yes, my son. I saw you, the moment your fingers curled around your first blade, the moment you killed your first living thing. I saw it. Myself. The hunger. The want, the _need_ to kill. To make people suffer because it feels good.” 

His father cups his cheek so hard it throbs, “I knew you would make a perfect legacy for me. The Moriyama’s agreed when I showed them. Showed how you could move, showed how you could kill. How you smiled when you slit your mother’s throat-”

Nathaniel shoved him away, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t-

“-do you remember her trying not to scream. Do you remember how you did everything I instructed you to and then more?”

_No, no he didn’t remember. He remembers blood, and pain and anger. So much anger. He remembers few words, but one promise._

_“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him. I’ll destroy him.”_

“You even got rid of her body for me. Carried her bones outside and buried them with your poor puppy’s.” His father laughs, “Do you remember what you asked me next?”

Nathaniel hands are gripping his head, pulling at his hair as he heaves. He remembers the feeling of flesh splitting under his knife. Was it his mother? Was it his mother? What did he do that night? What did his father let him do?

“No- I wouldn’t- I, couldn’t have.” He manages, stepping away from his father and colliding with Lola who stood behind him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and nuzzles her face into his neck. 

“Shh, Junior, this is my favourite part.”

His father pulls a knife from his sleeve and moves back to where he stood before “You asked me who was next.” 

He leans his back against the desk, his eyes studying the knife. “So I kept you, the Moriyama’s agreed you would take over my mantle when I step down. Similar to their own process of picking their next head.”

He looks back up and considers Nathaniel. “I’m not upset with you Nathaniel. Your mission is still to find the person leaking our secrets, and I wish to know who it is. I don’t have any use for a pile of dead bodies, nor the press it would bring back into Baltimore.” 

“Then why did you do it?” Nathaniel finally grits out, the anger is a fire that he cannot smother. His body quivers under the suit and knives that were strapped to him, “Why did you set a trap for the Bearcats. Why did you tell them that the Ravens would be here?”

The Butcher’s grin turned manic, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “Figured it out, didn’t you Nathaniel? Maybe you would make a good detective with that friend of yours. What was his name again? Andrew?” He taunts, flicking his bodyguard off with a lazy gesture and Allison stumbles forward.

“He’s my partner.” Nathaniel manages to get out, his heart squeezing against his chest and he refuses to let his father see the desperate fear that is crawling up his limbs and whispering in his ears, “Why did you do it?”

The man tilts his head in false consideration before answering, “I wanted to see what you could do.”

Allison ran over and grabbed onto Nathaniel’s shoulders pulling him behind her and tugging him towards the door. Lola laughs, DiMaccio returns to the Butcher’s side.

Before Nathaniel could run, his father smiled at him one last time;

“You didn’t disappoint son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HATE this chapter so much, I can't tell if it's awful or not. It is an info dump but I promise you shit is going to get real next chapter like you know REAL REAL, like maybe a big big reveal REAL. 
> 
> and it will not take me a month to get up. 
> 
> comment your thoughts! again I'm sorry this one is rough, and barely edited I just needed to get it up for you guys. thank you for reading :)


	11. No Time To Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard does not want things, because when he does, something horrible is bound to happen. 
> 
> Nathaniel Wesninski finally slips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; violence, mention of past rape, threatened assault
> 
> it's here. 
> 
> chapter song title; "no time to die" by billie eilish

Andrew Minyard has never been a fan of Kevin Day. It’s a mersible fact of the matter that their lives have been unfortunately joined at the hip during Andrew’s university life - and the only person he has to blame for that is himself. 

Andrew has a nasty habit of trying to protect people from their own downfalls, it’s a much needed distraction from his own problems and demons that plague his every moment. 

So Kevin Day, with a sob story like his, was the perfect distraction. 

Born to a celebrity, Kayleigh Day, an actress who dabbled into less legal activities on the low. When she died in a tragic car accident, Kevin was raised by her best friend, Tetsuji Moriyama who just so happened to also be the leader of the Raven gang. A considerable second branch of the yakuza that was located in America and run by the second born of the family. 

Kevin was raised in a life surrounded by crime and became the adopted brother of Riko Moriyama who just so happened to be the next head of the Raven gang. The _two_ tattoo that rests under Kevin Day’s left eye is explanation enough to where his position would be in the future. 

But Kevin broke out when he was eighteen, using his mother’s fame, and ended up going into law enforcement - alongside his father, David Wymack. 

Kevin was a nervous wreck, paranoid to a fault, unable to focus on his classes, on homework, on _living._ So Andrew promised to watch his back while Kevin worked to make his dream come true. And it worked out for both of them, Andrew had a roommate, and Kevin wasn’t falling apart at the seams and was only an alcoholic on weekends instead of everyday. 

Kevin was also a small factor to why Andrew got a job against all odds. 

And _that_ was also the only reason Andrew was now here, way past the end of his shift, sitting on a plastic chair, watching the father and son duo stare at more useless papers.

“Did you ever meet Mary? Nathaniel’s mother?” Wymack asks, tapping a pen absently against the white board before them both.

Kevin nods, “A few times, but Nathaniel never really stayed with us. He was going to take after his father, so he spent more time with the Moriyamas’ first born. Ichirou. They needed to establish the bond early since Nathaniel would grow up to be his right hand man.” 

Wymack hums in agreement, watching Kevin with those longing proud father eyes that Andrew unfortunately knows too well. Or the way Kevin seems at the edge of his seat, doing his best to earn that look. It would be an enduring sight to see a strong father son bond but one tiny factor is making it bittersweet. 

Wymack still doesn’t know he’s Kevin’s biological father. 

It’s the little things that make Andrew’s life a massive cluster fuck. 

Kevin sighs, “And then when Mary died, obviously Nathaniel stopped showing up because he supposedly died with her. The Butcher never continued his business with the Raven’s after that, he stayed entirely with the main branch.”

“And so did Nathaniel…” Wymack finishes off, “What was he like when you last saw him?

Andrew sighs, loudly. He's getting really tired of all this Nathaniel talk, his eyes shifting to stare at his phone in front of him. One message blinking up at him still in razor clear focus. 

**_A -_ ** _Stop digging. My side of the deal is in place still. This is me keeping it. Don’t look or dig into the butcher anymore or me. The kids will be safe because of you. - thank you, you were amazing._

Andrew is going to snap his stupid fucking phone into two. 

_Stupid fucking Nathaniel, stupid fucking Abram._

“He always looked cold, a wall of sorts between us and him. The only reason his father came by was because of the Raven’s connections in America and Nathan was considering handing Nathaniel over to us if he didn't prove his worth.” 

Wymack pauses, “Worth for what?” 

“To take over for his father, be the next Butcher.” Kevin flicks a loose piece of paper in annoyance, “No one thought he would.”

“Well clearly he did.” Andrew adds, his mind supplying him with unhelpful images of Abram easily wielding a knife or slipping into the shadows without a word. The stiff posture of all his ‘men’ whenever Abram’s father was mentioned. 

Kevin humms in agreement, and Andrew has had enough. No longer wanting to stare at the hazy silhouette of a man in a photo who clearly doesn’t want to be seen so he isn't. He stands from his chair and grabs his jacket without another word. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Kevin, of course, snaps. Jolting from his spot and beginning moving to cut off his path. 

“Smoke.” Andrew shakes the cigarette pack in his hand for emphasis and storms out of the building.

Andrew leans up against the alleyway, his eyes lingering a moment longer in the area where he and Neil stood earlier. His heart tightening against his chest and he hastily reaches for a smoke, lighting it up, and tries not to think of Neil’s hands on him. 

It doesn’t take long for Kevin to find him.

Pushing open the backdoor, Kevin comes with his arms already crossed and his permanent scowl in place. Andrew doesn’t bother with a greeting, instead choosing to keep his gaze on the smoke that’s floating aimlessly away from him.

It takes Kevin a few more minutes before he speaks, “Your partner, Neil, you two close?” 

Andrew halts, now letting himself look over to the person he was closest to only a few years ago. “I guess, why?” 

Kevin shrugs, “Just seems so, that's all. I don’t think he really liked me.” 

Andrew snorts, rolling his eyes. “Gee Kevin, I wonder why. It’s not like the first time you saw him you completely blew him off.” 

The man next to him huffs, “What I’m trying to ask is, are you doing good? Like, with life and everything.” He waves a hand around absently, apparently Kevin’s people skills never improved either over time. 

Still, he appreciates Kevin for trying, even though their relationship has always been rocky, he guesses Kevin would be considered… a friend? A very annoying, piss off of a friend. 

“I’m alright.” He offers. 

“And the others?” 

“Nicky is happily in love and Aaron is miserable as always, nothings changed in that department.” 

Kevin frowns slightly, looking hesitant and Andrew already knows what he’s going to ask. 

“Has he figured out what he’s…, you know, planning to do?”

Andrew has to fight down the uptake in irritation that over takes him and shakes his head, “No, he’s still applying to any medical school he can. But the attempted manslaughter on his criminal record is making that kinda difficult.”

He notes that Kevin can’t look at him now, green eyes downcast as he stiffly nods his head and says nothing else. As if he hadn’t also been there that day, as if he hadn’t also been in that room.

Andrew can barely remember it himself, even with his memory. He supposes it was one of the better side effects of the pills. 

“You could still help him.” He’s saying suddenly, “There is always a chance a judge will relook at the case.” 

Kevin still doesn’t speak and that is an answer in itself. 

Now the irritation has boiled over into anger and Andrew flicks the cigarette onto the ground. 

“Right, I forgot, you can’t do anything that would risk your previous job.” 

He reaches out to swing the door open, to leave, ignoring the sting of betrayal that still simmers in his chest. The place where he puts all of his emotions that he refuses to let others know, and he refuses to let Kevin know how much anger he holds for him. For the fact that he heard the judge’s sentence and only nodded his head solemnly in agreement.

“Andrew! Wait.” Kevin goes to grab Andrew’s arm but seems to think better of it, “You know that isn’t what this is about. You know there is no way a judge is going to reopen this case, the Moriyamas will make sure of that.” 

Andrew grits his teeth together, “And whose fault is it that they were after me in the first place? Aaron doesn’t deserve to suffer because we were way in over our heads.” 

With that, he swings the door open and let’s it slam shut behind him, unwilling to hear Kevin argue with him again. Unwilling to stare at the spot Neil left him and wonder, not for the first time, if he imagined the return look in his gaze and the sharp intake of his breath. 

Unwilling to accept that Andrew Minyard wants, and whenever Andrew Minyard wants, something bad is bound to happen.

-

When Andrew wakes up to banging on his door in the middle of the night, he doesn’t know what he expected. But he still grabs the knife from under his pillow and makes his way into his apartment living room. 

The moon leaks in through the open window, the steady pattering of rain echoes around the empty room that is then followed up again by the frantic pounding of someone’s fist. Andrew flicks the knife in his palm before unlocking it and swinging it open.

What he didn’t expect was to open the door to Neil Josten.

Neil stood in his doorway, drenched in rain, his dark auburn hair plastered to his temples. His eyes a deep brown, rimmed red. His cheeks and tips of his ears flared a similar colour from the cold. A black hoodie clings to his body and drips water on the floor outside of his apartment. His running shoes are drenched, his body wracking with shivers as the man opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“Neil?”

“Andrew.” He gasps, his eyes looking wild in the night. Instantly, Andrew is reaching out and hooking a finger in his collar ignoring the squinch of the water and tugs Neil inside. The boy trembles, his hands reaching but never grabbing onto him.

Slamming the door shut, and sliding his knife away, Andrew turns to grab a towel but Neil’s fingers curling around his sleeve stops him. 

“Neil, what’s going on?” Andrew asks, turning to look at him in confusion but Neil shakes his head. Oblivious to the mess he was making on the floor. “Neil why the fuck are you here?” 

That seems to bring some sense to the other man, who blinks up owlishly before shaking his head. “I - I had to make sure.” 

“Make sure of what?” 

“That you were safe.”

Andrew ignores the mixed feelings that bloom to life in his gut, the thought that for some reason Neil ran here, in the rain, to make sure that he… that he was okay? But that doesn’t change the fact he did so _in the pouring rain in only a hoodie._

So, instead, he sets to trying to pull more answers from his partner. “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

Neil shakes his head again, “He - I, no. No I’m an idiot.” He seals his eyes shut. One hand comes up and wraps itself into his hair and he pulls, Andrew goes to swat it away but Neil’s knees suddenly buckle forward and he crashes to the floor.

Andrew’s hold on his collar breaks, but Andrew is following him down. Letting his own knees land in the puddle beneath them, reaching his hands out and clasping onto both of Neil’s arms. He winces at how cold he feels under his touch.

“Neil, talk to me, what’s going on.”

Neil’s body shutters, slumping forward and Andrew leads his head onto his own shoulder. The contact surprises Neil, judging by the tension that shoots through his body before leaving just as quickly. Neil’s hands twitch out again, reaching before he stops himself.

Andrew grits his teeth at the show of respect that Andrew doesn’t want right now. He remembers Neil’s words at the hospital and he tries to be as gentle as he can when he grabs hold of Neil’s chin and pulls him up to look Andrew in the eyes. 

“You’re allowed to touch me if you want too.”

Neil looks like he’s about to argue so Andrew covers his mouth with his palm before pressing his forehead against Neil’s. He closes his eyes when he speaks next.

“Let me help you too.” 

Neil stares and he stares and he stares. A man walking on a tightrope, his feet slipping, his eyes crying and he’s reaching with shaking fingers. Andrew doesn’t know what he’s thinking, or what he’s feeling or even what has happened but he sees the moment something snaps in those eyes and Neil crumples like paper into Andrew’s lap. His hands coming to grab at his shoulders and he _screams._

It makes the blood in Andrew go cold, his body pulling taunt in surprise and pain because of the noise that comes out of his partner’s throat. It’s ripped from his core, his voice cracking as he clings to Andrew’s shoulders, his head firmly pressed against Andrew’s chest. The sobs that heave his body wracks them both and Andrew doesn’t know what to do besides wrap his arms around Neil and hold him closer. His back is quivering and heaving with the sobs that are being pulled from him, his voice shot.

 _“It never stops.”_ Neil gasps. “ _I just want it to stop, I- I can’t do this-”_

“Neil.” Andrew manages to get out, pressing his face into Neil’s hair. “Neil you need to breathe.”

“I’ve never been able to breathe!” He cries, “He won’t let me go, I can’t - I don’t- I just wanted-” 

“Who, Neil. Who is he?”

Neil sobs, his hands clutching tighter as his body trembles. “I don’t even know anymore.” He grits out, “I think it’s me, Andrew. I think I’m what’s bad.” 

“Neil. Stop saying stupid shit, that isn’t true-”

“IT IS!” Neil shoves his head up and looks at Andrew, his eyes wild, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not a good man, Andrew, I - don’t deserve any of this- I don’t- I can’t lose you but I’m going too. I deserve it, I’m a monster-”

“Neil-”

“I’m scared Andrew. I’m so-”

“ _Neil.”_

“I’m a monster, Andrew. I’m sor-”

Andrew covers Neil’s mouth with his palm again, his eyes hard at the words spilling from the idiot’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up, Neil.” He growls, his fingers dig tight into the skin as he forces Neil to look at him. He feels the tears fall onto his palm. “You are the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me. You and your stupid fucking personality and your petty lies. Your smart mouth and your god awful taste in food and that stupid fucking smirk you do when you think you’ve figure out a case, when in reality you are an idiot.” 

Neil’s eyes shimmer in the low light of his apartment. 

Andrew pulls, “You see me. You see me and I see you, okay? I know monsters Neil, you are not one.”

Andrew pulls his hand away slowly. 

“So, don’t say shit like that about my partner okay? I don’t want to fucking hear it.” 

Andrew doesn’t understand why Neil looks sadder. 

Some part of Andrew whispers that he does now why.

Andrew reaches up and curls his hand around Neil’s face, his fingers skimming under his eye and across the scars along his cheek. He hears Neil’s breath hitch as he reaches up and gently wraps a hand around Andrew’s wrist.

His eyes are pleading when he speaks, “ _Help me_ , Andrew.”

 _“Let me.”_ Andrew pleads in return. 

“I - I don’t-” His eyes glance up, the tears glimmering, before a few more spill over and Andrew swipes his thumb underneath to take them away. “I don’t deserve this Andrew.” He whispers, “You don’t know who - _what_ I am.”

Andrew shakes his head, his hands cradle Neil’s face. “You’re my partner, Neil.”

Neil sucks in a shaky breath, he’s floating so high and Andrew has no idea how to pull him back down to safety. 

There’s a breath that passes between them, Neil’s eyes flit downwards and Andrew is tugging him forward without thinking and his lips are pressing against Neil’s in desperation that is quickly returned. Neil moves his hands and they hover over Andrew’s head in a moment of hesitation so Andrew kisses him harder, in want, in promise, and Neil lets them get tangled in his hair. He is pushing Neil back, and Neil falls with him so he’s laying on the floor as Andrew kisses him. Andrew’s body burning as Neil holds his face closer, his lips parting for Andrew without hesitation and he trembles. 

“Neil.” Andrew hisses out, realizing he needs to make sure - that Neil is lost. He presses a palm to Neil’s chest to force himself away. “Neil I shouldn’t-”

“Don’t stop.” Neil says before Andrew can finish, “You don’t have to stop, Andrew.” 

Before Andrew can tell himself again that he _should_ stop, Neil touches Andrew’s lips lightly and there is no way he can mistake the want in those eyes. Andrew moves forward again and he’s colliding with Neil, who meets him halfway, his back arching to meet Andrew and pull him back down with a groan, his hands still light against his scalp, giving Andrew an out if he wants it. 

But, the worst part is that he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to stop. He wants Neil closer. He needs Neil closer, he needs and he needs and he’s burning up. 

They need to talk, he needs to figure this out. But Neil’s lips are sliding across his perfectly, his breath hitching for a much better reason than before. He presses a kiss to the otherside of Neil’s mouth, his lips pressing against each mark on his cheek and Neil tilts his head back with a sigh. Andrew kisses down, and along his neck, finding another scar against his collarbone and he kisses there too. 

“Andrew.” Neil sighs, and Andrew is moving back up to his face before kissing him again and murmuring against his lips.

“I got you, Neil. I promise.” He gasps, “Let me help you, let me keep you safe.” 

Neil makes a noise against his mouth as he kisses Andrew harder in response.

They tumble against each other, Andrew closing the gaps between their bodies slowly and Neil presses his lips against Andrew’s neck causing him to shutter in surprise. 

He feels Neil’s lips curl into a smile against his skin, and Andrew grumbles under his breath. 

“Fucking idiot.” 

Neil laughs lightly, his hands holding onto him and Andrew isn’t sure why his skin doesn’t crawl at that contact. 

“Is this okay?” Neil asks, peering at him. Andrew has to look away from the openness in his eyes.

“Yes.” He grits out, trying not to think of the fact that Neil knows to ask. “Fuck, yes it is Neil.”

Neil’s lips return and Andrew’s eyes slid close as he drops his face into Neil’s hair, it smells like rain, it feels unreal. 

Andrew returns to Neil’s lips, he can’t part from them for long. He lets one hand drop and press along Neil’s body, enjoying the soft sigh against his lips. Andrew feels like he’s drowning now, but Neil is the water and he isn’t desperate for air anymore. He is happy to die here, to stay and let the water carry him away. 

The sound of his phone blaring breaks them apart, Neil with a jagged gasp and Andrew freezing from the sudden noise. 

He glances down at Neil, whose cheeks are blown red, his hair fanning along his head, his eyes focused and lips pressed into a smile so soft Andrew considers ignoring the phone; until he feels the gentle touch of Neil’s fingers in his hair.

“It’s probably important at this time.” He reminds him because of course he does. Andrew nods numbly and pushes himself to his feet and pulls Neil after him. 

He doesn’t know why his heart stops when he sees _Kevin_ sprawled across the phone screen. He tightens his hold on Neil’s wrist that he has latched onto. 

“What?” He picks up the phone.

 _“I got a tip from someone about seeing some kids - I think, might be something to do with the Red Luxury case.”_ Kevin gasps through the phone, sounding grainy and out of breath, _“I’m heading to the address now to check it out, I didn’t tell anyone else since it’s probably going to be another bullshit call, because you picked the biggest joke of a precinct as your workplace, but I need someone to back me up.”_

Andrew tries to swallow the new found annoyance and bone chilling anxiety that spring to life. He doesn’t think Nathaniel would be so stupid to leave the kids somewhere they could be spotted but… 

But with everything that has been happening recently, maybe he hasn’t been as cautious as he usually was. 

“We’ll be right there.” 

He ends the call and stares blankly at the screen for a few moments, his heart pounding.

_This doesn’t feel right. Something isn’t right._

“Andrew.” Neil’s voice breaks through to him, and Andrew dares himself to look back up. His partner’s face has changed in the few moments to something more pained, his skin still tinted red but his eyes carrying something heavy. “I - I need to tell you som-”

“No.” It’s out of Andrew’s mouth before he can stop it. It’s stupid, if Neil needs to talk he shouldn’t be cutting him off, but right now something doesn’t feel right and he thinks that whatever is about to leave his partner’s mouth will shatter the few lingering moments of _rightness_ between them. He steps forward, reaching out and pulls Neil to him. He comes willingly, his eyes instantly falling to study Andrew, who meets his stare challenging before closing the gap between them. His brain still doesn’t know how to catch up to the realization that he is kissing Neil. Feeling the steady and soft press of Neil’s slightly chapped lips against his, the light fingers that hover near his face but don’t touch until Andrew pulls them to his hair. Neil sighs against his lips and it is broken and laced with a familiar longing that makes him want to scream. How long have they been dancing around each other? Is this even anything? Or is this a blip that Andrew sorrowly miscalculated?

Andrew fights at himself to pull away, pressing their foreheads together and cupping Neil’s face. “After. Tell me after, whatever it is. Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.” Neil whispers back, but he doesn’t meet Andrew’s eyes. 

-

The moment Andrew guides the car into the address Kevin sent them to, Andrew feels his gut tighten, a warning. The lamps flickering in the hazy atmosphere, Andrew could see the storm clouds rolling in across the sky. 

Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he almost laughs at the sight. The tension in the car between him and Neil is so thick he feels like he could almost see it, his fingers twitching on the gear shift to reach out and pull Neil to him. To make them both forget the world, to drown himself in Neil and be consumed by the thing that had already swallowed him whole. 

Neil catches his eye for a moment. His lips twitching up into a weak smile, his own hand stays put in his lap and Andrew hates the feeling of helplessness that followed Neil today. The other still refuses to tell him what sent him into breakdown. Brown eyes still cloudy with a different kind of weight that Neil was carrying with him. 

Andrew is already starting to convince himself that the entire kiss was a dream.

Putting the car into park, Andrew sighs, reaching around to grab his jacket before opening his door. 

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” 

He tosses Neil his vest, Neil catches it and frowns. 

“This is your only bulletproof vest.” He says, already trying to shove it back but Andrew shakes his head. 

“No, you need something if you are coming with me. Now come on.”

Neil looks like he was going to protest but Andrew ignores it, picking up his pistol, spinning it open and checking on the ammo. Satisfied, he clicks it back into place and readjusts the knives resting along his skin, pinned tight from his armbands. Finally he motions for Neil to follow him to find Kevin.

The place in question is a small hotel that shut down decades ago and no one bothered to buy it again. The ‘ _for sale’_ sign hung from the smashed window, creaking in the wind that whistles past them. The hotel is surrounded by other worn down buildings, most appearing deserted but probably made a home to countless people once the sun went down. These parts of Baltimore are nestled on the outskirts of the city, housing most of the homeless population that dwells here, the only running businesses or buildings are the few shelters that were opened. 

With that fact, unless Nathaniel moved the kids, the location is nowhere near the storage unit. The chances of someone seeing a group of kids living in this rundown area isn’t farfetched, especially with the staggering numbers of homeless youth. Andrew isn’t worried that it is his kids in question here.

But still, Andrew finds Kevin standing by his own black vehicle, outlooking the neighbourhood. His blue FBI jacket proudly dawned across his back, arms folded across his chest and his somber yet determined expression he wears that reminded him of his days at university. But Andrew also doesn’t miss the anxious jitters moving throughout Kevin’s body. Or the way his left hand twists with his sleeve, his biggest giveaway.

“So Kevin, you gonna tell us why we’re meeting here in the middle of the night?” Andrew calls out and Kevin startles for a moment before sending him a sharp glare once he spots the both of them walking towards him. Kevin’s eyes shift and land on Neil and Andrew doesn’t miss the way his body freezes. 

“What is he doing here?” Kevin snaps, shoving an accusing finger at Neil. Andrew doesn’t like the way Neil has stopped breathing from behind him. 

Andrew lets a frown roll across his features, “He’s my partner, where I go, he goes. Remember that I’m the one doing a favour for you right now, not the other way around.” 

Kevin visibly stares at Neil for longer, his bottom lip disappearing under his teeth and a brow furrowing. He clutches his left hand tightly before shaking his head subconsciously. 

“Whatever, just make sure you’re listening to me and do what I say.” 

Neil’s breath leaves him in a hiss before he openly rolls his eyes, Andrew can’t say he blames him.

“Someone called the precinct, said she saw something about the missing kids for the Red Luxury case and that she had been seeing a group squatting around here. I think it’s worth checking out.” Kevin continues, “We can at least look and see if it looks like someone has been staying there.”

 _Can’t be my kids_. Andrew thinks, but he nods instead. Because something keeps him from leaving, something keeps him from even allowing the risk of it being his kids, to occur. 

“We’re in the most densely populated area for the homeless, of course there is going to be signs of people squatting.” Neil pipes up from behind, his expression a flat mirror of annoyance and disdain sent to Kevin. 

“I think I remember telling you to listen to me. You aren’t trained in this.” Kevin snaps back, shoving past them both and taking down the street toward their destination. Even if his words were harsh, Kevin still leaves a wide berth between Neil and himself. 

“Fucking asshole.” Neil grumbled and Andrew grunted in agreement, 

“Fucking asshole.” 

-

The moment Andrew steps foot into the building he knows something is wrong. Growing up in the foster system, you become hyper aware of certain things. How to tell who’s coming from their footsteps, how to tell someone's temper based off of their breathing -

-and how to sense the feeling of someone's eyes on you, even if you can’t see them.

Kevin shoves the doors open and they squeal loudly in protest, Andrew huffs.

He pulls his gun out, and snaps off the safety. Neil must also share the same skill set as Andrew, because his own body too is wrung tight with tension. His eyes flickering around the dusty lobby. 

“This doesn’t feel right.” He breathes out next to him. Andrew flicks his eyes over to him in acknowledgement, ignoring Kevin who has turned on an obnoxiously bright flashlight. The beam showing off broken furniture, the dust that dances in the air, floating aimlessly downward. The unease grows in Andrew’s gut. 

But he follows Kevin silently as they move along, the lobby appearing empty except for them. Andrew’s brows furrow, glancing into another room and finding it bare as well.

“Kevin, this is pointless,” Andrew starts, meaning to tell him that he thinks they should wait until the morning, that they should at least call this in, to do _something_ different than what they were. Something wasn’t right and Andrew would rather look like a fool than have a bullet hole in himself, or worse… Neil. 

Andrew never finishes his sentence though, cutting himself off when he hears Neil’s footsteps hault.

He turns. His partner is staring at the floor, his face paling rapidly in the cool light of the moon shining through the windows. His body shifting itself into a position to fight, his eyes trained on something beneath them. 

Andrew sees it now, the floor, the one that should be covered with undisturbed dust and mud, had clear and unmistakable fresh footprints. And not just one or two. There had to have been at least a dozen people walking through here at once. 

Something heavy settles in Andrew’s chest. 

“Kevin.” Neil is saying, his voice is cold as ice. “Kevin, what are we actually doing here.” 

There is no question in his tone. 

“Looking for any signs of the kids, I already-” 

“No.” Neil snaps, his eyes shooting to Kevin who stands a few steps away from them. “No, this has nothing to do with the kids does it? Why are we really here?”

Something snaps between the two, Kevin’s face contorting for a moment before he shakes his head violently, his hand dropping to his gun on his hip. 

“Kevin.” Andrew hisses, reaching out and grabbing onto his shoulder, “What the fuck is he talking about.” 

“It’s nothing, I just… I thought maybe -.” 

“What did you do Kevin? Who called you?”

Andrew doesn’t like the way Kevin’s face twists from confusion and annoyance, to guilt. 

“It isn’t- I mean, I was just-” he stammers. Andrew hasn’t seen Kevin Day look so scattered since their freshman year of university. 

“What was their name!” Neil yells, cutting Kevin off. “Tell me what their fucking name was or I swear to god I will slit your fucking throat right now _Kevin.”_

Andrew doesn’t know why it feels like Neil has years worth of resentment behind that name. 

“Neil-” He starts, reaching a hand out to calm his partner down, but he freezes when he sees Kevin’s face.

His eyes are blown wide now, his mouth slightly agape as he stares at Neil. “No, there’s no-” He starts, his voice more akin to a whimper than anything else. 

“Their name!” Neil shouts again, Kevin flinches and Andrew grabs Neil by the shoulder. 

“Lola!” Kevin cries, “She said it was Lola!”

The world explodes with those few words.

A woman is laughing, her feet clicking on tile and Andrew moves for his gun but Neil is already there. Andrew sees a black dagger glint off of the moonlight before he’s roughly shoved in the room he had just been inspecting but not before he feels something fly past his side. Andrew hisses when sharp burning snaps across his stomach. Still as Neil shoves him back he tries to regain his footing and almost succeeds until Kevin’s body collides with his own causing them both to go sprawling across the ground. 

He hears shouts, and laughter before the echoing slam of the door. Andrew gasps for air as he feels blood starting to coat his side, his hand grasping on the floor for his gun. He hears scraping across the floor and can make out Neil pulling the room's dresser to the door. 

Kevin is scampering to his feet as the sound of something embedding into the wood causing him to jump back. His gun is pointed directly at the door, and in return, aimed directly at Neil. 

When Neil turns, Andrew doesn’t recognize him. 

No that’s a lie, he does. He does recognize him, it just isn’t Neil. It isn’t _his_ Neil. 

“Na-” Kevin starts to stammer but Neil is already moving, his body colliding with Kevin who doesn’t have time to react. His gun clatters to the gun as Neil takes him to the floor a knife is pressed to his throat that Andrew didn’t see him draw. 

“Call me that fucking name and I promise you, that you will never see the outside of this room again.” He snarls, “Do you realize what you have done?” 

Kevin gasps and Andrew grunts, pushing himself to his hands, “Neil, don’t.” He manages, because he can hear more people gathering outside of the door and the rattling of the nob, followed by the same laugh that he knows he will hear in his nightmares. 

Neil’s eyes snap up, and they land to Andrew’s side. He looks torn between moving to Andrew and leaving Kevin, or to finally slit Kevin’s throat instead. But no matter how much Andrew dreamed of doing the same, he doesn’t actually want the man dead. 

Thankfully, Neil is still predictable and still manages to not let Andrew down, so he drops Kevin, and he’s by Andrew’s side in moments. His hands flew to the wound on his gut, carefully lined against the ripped stitches on his side. 

“No, no, this isn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t suppose-” His eyes slid shut, and Andrew thinks he saw tears again. But maybe it was just the rage that brims across his body. 

“Neil,” Andrew hisses out, “I’m fine, it’s just a knife wound.” 

Neil’s eyes open again, _oh god they must be blue._

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks, “Andrew, I’m sorry.” 

“ _Junior,_ what’s going on in there?” A singsong voice of women filters through the door, it shutters as she rattles it before she giggles again, “Trying to get one last fuck in with your boyfriend before I kill him? You know I just wanted you two to show up but a threesome might be fun!”

Neil visibly flinches, Andrew reaches out and wraps a hand around Neil’s wrist. 

“We’re going to die.” Kevin whispers from the floor not far away from them, “She’s going to kill us.” 

Neil’s eyes flick down to Andrew for a moment, something like a bitter resignation crosses his features than being followed with a cold determination he knew too well. 

He saw it on Abram’s covered face on a rooftop on a cold night. 

_No._

He saw it on Nathaniel Wesninski’s face when he killed eleven men to keep the Baltimore’s precinct safe. 

_No._

Neil is shifting, shedding his jacket and pulling knives out and laying them across the floor. His fingers skim over certain ones like a mother would with her own children, his hands reach up and he’s taking something out of his eyes and dropping them to the ground. 

“She won’t touch you.” Neil promises, but he doesn’t look over. Andrew already knows what he’ll see. 

He pulls up a pant leg, Andrew can see black straps holding more knives into place. He slides those ones along bands that are tucked into his arms. 

“Junior! Hiding away right now, really? That doesn’t sound like something I taught you.” The woman is speaking again, Neil doesn’t flinch. “Daddy isn’t happy with you. Turns out you’ve been doing some things behind our backs again, didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?” 

Andrew can still see Abram’s stiff set shoulders, tightly curled fists and an echoing question of _why_? 

_“So they don’t end up like me_.”

Can hear Mads' questions, “ _Did your daddy hurt you again?_ ”

The limp that followed Abram as he walked, the one that Neil tried to hide the next day at work. 

A black dagger is placed on the floor with a thud, Andrew watches it. Kevin whimpers. 

“How are you still alive?” Kevin is asking, Andrew can’t breathe. 

“I play a convincing game, Kevin Day.” Is the short response that is spoken in Neil’s voice but sounds nothing like him. 

_“You threatened what was under my protection.”_ He hears the voice of the Butcher’s son whispering into the ear of a soon to be dead man instead. 

“What are you planning, Junior? You know daddy has been watching you, he’s been watching you get soft again.” The woman cooes. “Did little Nathaniel fall in love?” 

Neil- Abram- no, _Nathaniel,_ moves faster than Andrew can track and a knife is embedded into the hotel room’s door. 

“That is a promise Lola.” He snarls, finishing strapping his knives to his outer body. 

Lola giggles through the door, “Oooo, this is getting exciting.” 

Finally Neil turns, and Andrew stops breathing. 

He had never seen Abram’s face, his mask hugged the features into obscurity and the night made it impossible to note any determining features. But ice blue eyes always shone under the black hood, always burned with an anger and fire that Andrew met with equal ferocity. The same blue eyes that killed eleven men with the flick on his finger, that were cold and emotionless. A machine built for killing. 

The same blue eyes that cried over his body only moments later. 

The same blue eyes staring at him now. Clashing violently with the dark auburn hair that hangs over his scarred face, that was never straight nor properly done. They hold an unspeakable agony that Andrew’s sure is mirrored in his own. 

_Why?_

“Kevin, get Andrew out of here. Through the window, you’ll have time to get away if I hold whoever is outside back. I presume you’ve already called for backup?” 

Kevin sputters above him, “Are you fucking crazy? There are over twelve of the _Butcher’s_ men out there Nathaniel, you’ll be slaughtered.” 

Neil gives a humorless laugh, “You forget, Kevin, those are my men too. I can take them.”

“No! No you can’t-”

“I am not asking Kevin.” Neil hisses, “you will take Andrew to safety, leave the men to me. My game is over, I’m done. You owe me, consider this your debt repaid.” 

Kevin goes silent for a few moments, gazing at Neil before finally nodding.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Andrew finally manages to regain his words, ignoring the knocking at the door and taunts thrown from outside. “Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.” 

He lunges to grab onto Neil but Kevin is already there, grasping onto him before he can make contact. Andrew is too weak to fight him and all Andrew can do is hopelessly watch as Neil’s ice blue eyes meet hazel and a soft smile goes across his lips, his mask of Nathaniel Wesninski shattering for only a moment. It’s the smile that Andrew would see so rarely on his face, the smile only he got to see. Only _Neil’s_ smile. 

“I’m sorry, Andrew.” He says, so soft and Andrew wants to kill him. “Everything was real to me, I promise, everything I felt, I wanted things to be different.” His smile wavers, but he presses on, “You were amazing Andrew, thank you again. For everything.” 

_Thank you, you were amazing._

Andrew feels Kevin pull him back, the smash of a window and Neil’s figure being pulled away from him. He fights, his hands outstretched and he yells.

“No, no don’t you fucking dare! Don’t!-” 

His world tilts slightly and words he never wanted to speak again slips from his mouth, “ _Please,_ Neil don’t you fuckin-” 

But Kevin is pulling him away and he watches as Neil moves the dresser out of space and the door is swinging open.

And Andrew feels the world fade back into black with ice blue eyes watching him. 

_You always did know they were blue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to; so-many-fandoms-so-little-life (on tumblr, go follow!) for proofreading this chapter and fixing my horrific tenses! 
> 
> also I hope you all enjoyed, I struggled with finishing this chapter because I had built up this scene in my head for so long but wasn't sure how to translate it into writing. all questions will be answered next chapter (what Kevin did ect.) as well so don't worry. 
> 
> please comment your thoughts, they always make my day! thank you all so so much for reading and I will be getting the second chapter out at soon as I can. :)


	12. Wicked Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard needs his partner back. 
> 
> Nathaniel Wesninski knows his partner will never want him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; injuries, past childhood abuse, scars
> 
> two more chapters until the end.
> 
> chapter title song- "wicked game", by ursine vulpine.

_ Red. _

_ One. _

_ Blue. _

_ Two. _

_ Red. _

_ Three. _

_ Blue.  _

_ Four. _

Light - white, annoying. A hand blocking the view. 

A partner by his side.

Not  _ his  _ partner.

_ Five.  _

_ Red, blue.  _

“Can you tell me what happened?” A voice is speaking to him but he’s underwater, even if it sounds familiar he can’t place it.

_ No.  _

_ Blue light, red light, blue light. Flash, flash, over and over.  _

“He’s in shock sir, you should let him be.” 

Blue and red lights, and cocoon around him.

_ Six. _

“It’s not him either, Chief.”

New voice, new voice but still so far away. 

“Take Andrew off the sight.”

_ “No!”  _ His body is stumbling to his feet, his mind lagging behind himself as he stumbles away from the ambulance. He can’t be taken away, not before he knows- not before… not before

Six bodies. Six body bags lay on the ground, hidden behind the flashing red and blue lights and yellow police tape that stretches across the property. He hears their voices, Renee’s hazy figure reaching for him but he can’t figure out what they are saying, he thinks someone is shouting his name but he doesn’t have the fight left in him to tell them to fuck off. 

_ Red, blue. Seven.  _

Seven bodies now, another body bag is added. He can see Wymack’s pale face, the shake of his head as he talks to someone. 

They are checking each one. For Neil, to find Neil’s cold lifeless form, drained of everything that made him  _ him,  _ ice blue eyes glazed and foggy. Limbs stiff, frozen, never to move again. Dead. Neil is dead. 

He should feel betrayed. He shouldn’t care if Neil comes out in one of those bags because it’s what he deserves right? What someone like him, a liar, deserves to end up as. 

But Andrew can’t shake the way Abram used his body to cover a child, taking the beating behind the scenes so some homeless, troubled kids could have a better shot at life. He remembers Neil’s laugh in the passenger side of his car, those eyes alight with something like wonder at the easiest things. Neil and his quick mouth and easy smile and him passing over the iced coffee in the morning without comment. Abram letting Mads snap another pin into his hair with a giggle. Abram’s promise to keep them safe. Neil’s trembling body in his arms as he screams, and he screams, and he screams and Andrew watches a man become undone in his grip. Neil hands, rough and calloused but gentle when he touches Andrew’s face for the first time. How his lips chased his own, matching him each step of his way. 

The forced smile and the agony of their goodbye. 

_ Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. Stay.  _

_ Stay.  _

Andrew can’t feel betrayed when he already knew who Neil was. 

A boy running for his life, a boy who has so many masks that he can’t figure out which one is really him. A boy who has demons that sat in his mind, ones that sat in his life. 

Andrew would be a hypocrite to hate him. Even if that’s what he wishes he could do. He wants - he  _ needs  _ to hate Neil. 

_ Eight.  _

The body bag hits the ground. 

He has to hate Neil because soon enough they are going to drag his body out of that building and Andrew’s world is going to shatter.

A fucking fool he’s been.

Dan meets Wymack’s eyes, her lip stretched into a grim look and for a moment Andrew can see her nodding, and can see her confirming that it is Neil behind the black plastic at her feet. That Neil, the first - the only - person to break down the last of Andrew’s defences isn’t here anymore. 

_ ‘It was all real to me.’ _

Dan shakes her head instead. Wymack lets out a sigh of… not relief, but something else entirely. 

“We have to tell them.” 

Andrew doesn’t startle at Kevin’s voice beside him, it’s been a constant presence since they had escaped the hotel by the skin of their teeth and Kevin’s called back up had come roaring into the parking lot. Even if Andrew is barling keeping himself from killing the other, Kevin is the only reason why Andrew hasn’t been dragged away to the hospital. 

“No.” Andrew says without hesitation. 

Kevin sighs, as if  _ he’s  _ being the unreasonable one. “Andrew the only reason why I held off is because you were too busy trying to kill the paramedic trying to stitch you up and I had to hold you back. Do you not understand what this means? The Moriyama’s sent one of their men into  _ your  _ workplace.  _ Your partner  _ was Nathaniel Wesninski, the son of one of the most wanted men in America, Andrew. Something big is going on.”

Andrew tries not to flinch at Neil being called one of  _ their  _ men. At the accusation behind those words, at the heavy blows that Kevin is already landing on Neil. 

The fact that maybe Kevin isn’t wrong and Andrew has been working with a liar this entire time. 

He grits his teeth, “Stop speaking like Neil is the one who put us in this position.” He keeps his eyes steady on Kevin who lets the anger at Andrew’s jab flicker across his face. 

“How was I supposed to know that there would be so many people? I thought I recognized her name, that was it, I had no idea who Nathaniel was. Not for sure anyways, not until it was too late.” 

“You lead us directly into a fucking trap Kevin, even _ I  _ know you aren’t that stupid!” 

“I would never walk Nathaniel to his death no matter what people think of him and no matter what  _ you  _ think I think of him.” Kevin snarls back, green eyes ablaze with an anger that Andrew never thought Kevin was capable of. “I’m sorry Andrew, I’m sorry you lost your partner. But the best we can do for him now is let people know what type of man he actually was.” 

_ Nine  _ body bags lay in a row _. _

_ Was. Was. What type of person he was.  _

The thin line of sanity Andrew had been clinging to finally snaps. Sending him flying forward, crashing into Kevin. He ignores the way his side protests in agony, the new stitches tugging painfully. His hands fly around Kevin’s throat as they both go crashing to the pavement together. He doesn't mind the way the ground bites into his knees, scraping his forearms as he pushes Kevin into it. The later’s eyes return to the usual deep seated fear that they always used to carry. The one he had once promised to fight away but Andrew can’t say he cares that it’s returned because of him. 

“I will fucking kill you. Fuck you, fuck you,  _ fuck you _ ! You did this, you fucking did this. He’s gone, he’s gone and we failed to keep him safe. You let him sacrifice himself you coward! You fucking coward!”

There’s a commotion around them. Andrew knows so since he had heard the startled shout from the paramedics and other officers when the two went down. He can feel hands trying to grab at him, to pull him away but he can’t let go of Kevin now. The rage and grief becomes an inferno that he can’t smother no matter how hard he tries. 

He feels someone wrap an arm around his throat, the move is familiar and he knows Renee has returned to his side. She pulls but Andrew pushes against her. 

_ I lost him.  _

_ I lost him. _

_ I failed him. _

Renee tugs harder and Andrew grits his teeth. 

“Let me go.” He hisses, enjoying the way Kevin’s face begins to purple, his weak hands crawling against Andrew’s own.

Renee’s sigh is soft, Andrew feels it more than hears it before she bows closer to him.

“They can’t kill him that easy, Andrew.” 

Andrew jolts, the words whispered into his ear so softly, like a promise. White strands of hair enter his sight and his hands loosen only slightly but that’s all Renee needs before she’s hauling him away from Kevin’s gasping form. 

It’s only now he sees the familiar faces of the others surrounding him, only then he realizes Matt and Wymack are clutching at his shoulders as well. There faces both a mirror of grief. 

“Minyard what the fuck.” Wymack is shouting, Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever realized how dark the circles under his eyes are. 

“I’ve got him Chief.” Renee says, raising a hand between the two. Making the others drop their grips. Matt doesn’t comment, but Wymack hesitates for a moment. His eyes a sober sight against the backdrop of bodies.

_ Did they find him? _

But, Wymack shoulders drop and Renee doesn’t loosen his grip and Andrew doesn’t resist against it. 

Wymack forces a sad smile on his lips, before he speaks, “Stay with us Andrew, we’ll find him.” 

Andrew watches Wymack’s receding figure, his mouth going dry as Renee helps him sit back down on the ambulances back. A group of people have now surrounded Kevin, paramedics dashing to help but Andrew can see the top of Kevin’s head - he’ll be fine. 

“Everyone is angry at him right now Andrew.” Renee speaks by his side, “But we can’t help Neil like this.” 

Her hand hovers over his shoulder and Andrew tries not to think of how Neil’s had done the same only hours before. 

He clutches his fists tightly, keeping his gaze on the growing pile of bodies before them. Renee’s previous words ring in his mind and Andrew doesn’t like the way his stomach is twisting. His mind running, puzzles that he wished to keep unsolved clicking into place. 

He remembers Renee’s hand curling around his wrist when he went to shoot Nathaniel, he remembers the way her eyes lingered on Neil longer than most, as if she couldn’t quite place why he was there in the first place. 

“You knew.” He says into the empty air between them. 

Renee says nothing and her silence is answer enough. 

Fury once again nears blows him over, betrayal a two headed snake now in his gut, he spins his head to face his old partner. 

“You knew this entire time and you never fucking told me? You never thought, once, that maybe you should have, you know, maybe mentioned the fact my partner is the son of a monster and he’s probably working for him and going to betray me. Did it ever occur to you that just maybe, it would have been fucking nice to know that the guy I was spending all my time with wasn’t even  _ fucking real!”  _

The words rush out of Andrew, his vision swims left, then right and Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever let so many barriers down. Not even for Renee, who regards him cooly, but her face twisted into an echo of sympathy that she knows Andrew doesn’t want right now. 

“I told you before Andrew.” She starts softly, “That he wasn’t a threat to us and I meant it. Nathaniel is still Neil, Andrew. He is and always has been your partner.” 

“What would you know.” 

Renee looks away, “You know I wasn’t always Renee, and it cost a lot to become her. Nathaniel helped me, a long time ago. I would be dead if it wasn’t for him, and that’s something I can never repay him for.” 

“Did he recognize you?” 

Renee shakes her head, “No, I don’t think so. I looked so different back then, but the Butcher got involved with my gang. Nathaniel was young, maybe fifteen at the time but he still stood up to our boss at the time and took him out, he chose to spare the rest of us at a heavy cost I’m sure.” She sighed, “He told me specifically to make it out, that it was the only thing he wanted in return for his mercy.” 

Andrew said nothing. Because it wasn’t hard for him to imagine Neil at fifteen playing a stupid fucking martyr for people he never knew. 

“I think it’s my fault he was in the precinct to begin with. I started leaking what I knew to the FBI in hope of returning the same gift of freedom he gave me. But I wasn’t quick enough.” She meets Andrew’s eyes, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” 

Andrew tries to kill the hope that sputters to life in his gut, “We have no way of knowing.” 

But before Renee could respond, Wymack is walking back towards them and Andrew feels his hope shatter. Wymack’s face is blank, his steps halting and he knows - he knows -

“I have good news and bad news.” Wymack starts, Andrew can’t look him in the eyes, “The good is Neil’s body wasn’t in there-”

Andrew’s head shoots up. 

An unbidden thought breaks through,  _ please.  _

“-The bad is that we have no idea where he is.” 

Andrew can’t breathe. 

_ He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.  _

_ But for how long?  _

He skims over the body bags, eleven bodies, Neil somehow took out eleven people and got out. 

Andrew throws himself to his feet, dodging out of Wymacks attempted grab at him before he starts making his way to the Maserati still parked just outside the lot. His breath is laboured and he knows he doesn’t have much time. But he never has before and he’s managed. 

“Andrew Minyard, where the fuck are you going?” Wymack yells and Andrew swallows the bitter smile before it crosses his features. 

“To go find my fucking partner.” He yells, not bothering to turn back and say it to their faces. Or acknowledge the shouts of protest behind him, Renee can deal with them now. 

_ Hold on Neil.  _

_ Don’t you fucking die on me yet. _

* * *

Neil remembers water. 

It is cool, lapping onto the shore and only brushing his toes. His head rests in his knees as he watches the sun disappear underneath the ocean before him. His mother hand cards through his hair, a heavy presence that should have brought him comfort. 

“Abram.” She murmurs under her breath. “It’s getting late, we should head back.”

“I don’t wanna.” He thinks he must be seven here, his eyes already dimmed too much for him to be any younger. His scars already peak through the top of his tee-shirt. 

His mother sighs, dropping her head in his hair. “Your father will be upset if we stay any longer, come now Abram.” 

She stands, brushing the sand from her legs and offers a hand, he takes it without question, letting his mother carry his weight when he finds his footing. 

“Remember what I told you Abram?” She asks, and he nods - because he could never forget.

“Play his game.” He says, play his game so you can live long enough to beat it. 

“And?” 

“And wear a mask.” He finishes, wear a mask so he can’t figure out the real you. The real you has weak spots. The real you is human.

“Good.” 

His mother's grip tightens on his own smaller hand, he does not flinch because Mother did not like it when he flinched. 

His mother’s face has gone stony, he never liked this mask on his mother much. 

She had too many.

Soon he would too.

-

Neil sees blood, it’s dripping down his forearm, swimming into his vision. 

He tastes iron and he tastes defeat. 

But he keeps moving, his body moving on muscle memory now. He doesn’t think he’s being followed anymore. 

He spits the red liquid onto the ground, he can’t see if it hits, his vision swims dangerously but he forces another step forward. He’s survived worse, he tells himself, he’s survived worse. 

He can’t die, not now, not after he had spent so long to get to this point. Not since he lost his mother. 

“Play his game, play his game, play his game.”

He knows now, he figured it out.

He can win the game now.

* * *

Andrew stares at Neil’s door for longer than he needs too. 

_ He won’t be home, are you an idiot? _

_ He might, he might be. _

Andrew still pulls his gun from his holster, clicking off the safety, evens his breathing and presses his ear to the door. He can hear the faint sound of someone frantic moving around the living room and it's all he needs before he’s reeling back and kicking the door in, it does give with the first kick, but the wood finally splinters under his heavy boot and explodes open. It echoes off the wall it slams into, almost drowning out the startled scream of the woman crouched in the living room. Blonde hair spilling over her sickly pale face, panic skewed across her expression and eyes zeroing on the gun Andrew has pulled at her. 

It takes Andrew a few more moments to realize that while he was distracted by her terrified expression that she was pulling a gun out from the waistband of her leggings. She levels it at his chest and her face quickly drops to a cold blank expression. 

“One step closer and I blow your brains out.” She snaps and it doesn’t take much for Andrew to realize that he’s not only heard her voice before but also recognizes it with startling clarity. 

“Sparkles.” He replies, meeting vicious blue eyes of the blonde woman in front of him. A heavy bag swung over her shoulder, her makeup skewed and disheveled on her face, she holds her gun with ease - as she did before every night he had spent with her. 

He also knows her as Allison, Neil’s best friend. Not that he had ever gotten the chance to really speak with her before. He thinks he might know why now. 

Allison raises an eyebrow at him, “You know I really had hope for you.” She growls, “Really fucking hoped that something good could happen to Nate but of course you turned out like all the rest.” 

Andrew frowns, “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Is Nate with you? In the back of your fucking police car? You gonna drag him into a cell and string him up, huh?” 

“Sparkles, I think you might be misunderstanding something here, I’m here looking for Neil.” 

Allison’s gaze falters for a moment, her stance wavering and Andrew tries to ignore the growing dread in his gut. 

“I don’t fucking know! All I get is a phone call that makes no fucking sense, something about you, blood and dying and now I have to go find him and hope I don’t find his body first.” 

Andrew see’s her trembling fingers now, the slightly crazed and desperate expression she wears and the unshed tears resting in her eyes.

He wonders how he must look to her.

“Then  _ help me _ , where would he go if not here?” Andrew asks, lowering his gun slowly, “His body wasn’t at the crime scene but eleven other peoples’ were, so I don’t know how far he could have gotten or how badly he’s hurt.”

Something in Allison’s eyes shifted, her lips pursing for a moment as she studies him. 

“Allison, we don’t have much time to find him before the police do and I’m not the only person who knows who he is now.”

Allison blinked, before she sighed and also dropped her gun alongside him, shaking her head. “So you really do know everything now. And you still want to find him before the police do? Not very law abiding are you Minyard.”

“Come on Sparkles, I think we’ve established I have never been.”

Something like relief graced her features, “Okay.” Allison muttered to herself, “Okay, we can do this. I can work with this-”

While she spoke, Andrew turned his attention to the rest of the room, not noticing the chaos and mess earlier. Toppled over glasses, drawers hanging open, food slewn across the counter. Clothes dragged out from the hallway, an array of weapons on the living room table. 

Andrew opened his mouth to ask before a loud crash cut him off. Glass shattering echoed throughout the apartment and Allison met Andrew’s eyes for only a moment before Andrew broke into the sprint at the sound. 

“It came from Neil’s room!” She shouts from behind and Andrew wheels around the corner, Allison at his heels before he swings open the door to the farthest room in the hallways. He holds his gun up again, and makes sure to keep Allison behind his body, ignoring her protests. 

The sun had begun to creep up the horizon in the time Andrew had spent speaking with Allison, orange and pink painting the sky in a twist of colours; creating a halo of yellow around the silhouette in front of him.

Neil stands for only a moment in front of the shattered window, blood matted hair pressed to his forehead, drops of it sliding down his face, curving over cheekbones, dancing down his jaw and splattering onto the floor. His hoodie is torn to shreds, the missing strips showing deep cuts criss crossing his shoulders. His arms are a similar mess of cuts and more blood, pieces of the bullet proof vest he had given him earlier, have been ripped or cut away. 

His lips are cracked and split, pulled into a haunted expression, blue eyes hazy and dazed - and pained. 

“No.” Neil wheezes, the word is torn and harsh. “ _ No.” _

“Neil.” Andrew croaks before Neil’s knee finally gives into the trembling force and he collapses to the ground with a broken groan.

Andrew drops his gun and lunges forward, catching Neil’s broken body just barely with Allison rushing forward to cushion his head. 

“Neil, Neil come on you fucking idiot, don’t pass out now.”

“...drew?” Neil whispers, like he isn’t real, his lips crusted from blood that Andrew thinks is his own, “Ally?”

“Yeah I’m here Nate.” Allison responds quickly, her fingers trembling as they fumble with the vest still strung tight around Neil’s chest, “Tell me where you're hurt, Nate. You gotta tell me where it’s the worst”

The groan he admits isn’t an answer put it does take the place of one, Andrew joins Allison in prying the vest off of Neil’s stiff form, “Come on idiot, she asked you a question. Where are you hurt?” 

Neil’s blue eyes flicker down to Andrew again, a bloodied finger twitches at his side, his mouth opening barely before another hiss of pain goes through him. 

“I’m getting the first aid shit, I need scissors to cut him out of his hoodie.” Allison rushes out, before sprinting off to the living room again. Neil doesn’t watch her go, instead focusing on Andrew who crawls forward and cups his face, trying to brush the blood away. 

“Come on, Junkie. You gotta hold on a bit longer okay, you fucking idiot? You owe me big fucking time and if you make it through this I’ll forget all about your fake identity shit okay?” Andrew doesn’t know what he's saying, the words are falling from his lips faster than the light fading from Neil’s eyes. “Just stay a little longer? A little longer so I can beat the shit out of you for all of this shit okay?” 

Neil’s head lolls to the side slightly, his lips twitching slightly before he murmurs under his breath.

“What a -” He starts weakly before he’s cut off by a cough and more blood is added to the mess on his mouth, “...cruel fucking dream.” 

“No, Neil. I’m here, you’re alive.” Andrew rasps, but he can see the amount of blood that has begun to pool on the floor and he knows that it isn’t for long. As he speaks, Neil grows weaker and Andrew has never felt more hopeless. 

_ Don’t take him from me. Don’t fucking take him from me. _

“Stay, Neil. Come on.” He whispers, “Stay with me.”

In those moments, Allison comes crashing back through the doorway, and Andrew holds Neil tighter as his eyes flutter close and he lets his world finally leave the dreams that were haunting him into a peaceful nothingness. 

* * *

“Get his feet-”

“-you drive… fuck off-”

“- Neil? Can-”

“-don’t. Robin? Nate… no time… safe-”

Neil can feel his body being moved, can feel hands wrapping around his limbs but he doesn’t have it in himself to fight anymore. He hears the faint echo of a car door slamming and his head being placed in someone's lap. 

“Just fucking drive Sparkles!” A voice barks over top of him, Neil knows who it is, but it’s impossible for it to be actually that.

Andrew is gone now. Andrew isn’t coming back. He lost Andrew. 

At least Andrew is alive, that makes every sting worth it, every hiss of pain when he tries to shift hurts less when he knows that Andrew will be able to keep living. While Nathaniel will walk to his death if he doesn’t meet it today. 

Nathaniel thinks he can make out Allison’s voice but he isn’t sure, not with the blood that has surely coated the inside of his ear or over the painful ringing in his head.

Still he tries to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth so he can speak to her, to ask her what’s going on but it’s still too much, his mind waving in and out of consciousness, dancing on a thin line of sanity that he’s about to cut himself if his brain doesn’t figure out what it wants to do soon. 

It isn’t till he feels a hand run through his hair that Nathaniel forces himself to open his eye, the touch is gentle but lingering, the blood that he is sure matted into his hair making the process harder but the person holding him, but they do it anyways. Still, when Nathaniel opens his eyes, he sees Andrew and he almost breaks completely at the sight. 

Hazel eyes, always sharp and analyzing are gazing down, blond eyebrows pinched together ever so slightly, his only give away of when he’s feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions. The soft blond hair that tumbles over his forehead and the undercut that is starting to grow past its buzz - Nathaniel wishes he had had the chance to tease him about it. 

It seems his imagination is cruel today. 

“Neil?” The voice isn’t soft. But it is woven with a hint of concern that on any other day, would make Nathaniel smile. 

He wishes he was Neil right now. 

He wishes Andrew was really holding him right now, 

He wishes he was never Nathaniel Wesninski and he had always been Neil Josten and he grew up normal, lived a normal life.

“Neil?” Andrew speaks again, and maybe this time his voice is softer. “Neil can you hear me?” 

“He lost a lot of blood, he’s not gonna be able to do much for a while Andrew.” Allison’s voice comes floating back, he feels the car take a harsh turn and is surprised when the fake Andrew above him, grip becomes tighter around him so he can’t slide with the vehicle. 

“...drew?” He manages to get out but he feels like he’s already done this.

His memory is spotty, a hazy distant figure that he keeps reaching for but he knows he’s done this before. And for a brief moment Nathaniel remembers and the only thing he can make out is the sight of Andrew breaking down a door with a gun pointed directly at Nathaniel’s chest.

His body strings taunt at the image and he swallows the bile that starts to climb his throat. 

_ Oh. _

“Neil? What’s wrong.” Andrew’s voice breaks in again and it only makes it worse. Nathaniel thinks he’s crying now, because it finally happened. Andrew wants him dead, Andrew is going to hunt him down. He-

Nathaniel - no, Neil, has done nothing but lie to him. Andrew doesn’t even know who Nathaniel is except for the puppeteer behind the stings of the false identities he had tangled Andrew in.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-” Oh god he’s crying again, he hasn’t cried this much in so long.

“Neil, stop.” Fake Andrew is holding him so nice, so gently, Nathaniel doesn’t think anyones bothered to hold him like this before.

“Nate? Stop working yourself up, you’re only going to make it worse.”

Allison is speaking again, he misses Allison, he misses Andrew. He misses mom. 

A moan slips past his lips as more pain spasms up his body. He wants to grab at the stupid fucking hallucinations surrounding him and watch them burn. It hurts more seeing them, feeling them, and knowing reality.

“It hurts.” He manages instead.

“Yeah well that’s what happens when you let yourself get stabbed more than twenty fucking times Josten.” Andrew tries to sound unamused and annoyed, he fails terribly.

“You sound like him too.” Neil murmurs back, “It hurts so bad.”

Andrew’s eyes darken, his gaze shooting up and locking with someone else. Nathaniel reaches a stray hand out, in search to press it against the face hovering above him. Fake or not, he wonders if he’ll be able too.

When Andrew notices, he is reaching out, wrapping his own hand around his wrist and pulling it to his face. The warmth that instantly blooms underneath Nathaniel’s palms makes his eyes widen in shock, fingers twitching and spreading across skin that has to be there. 

_ He’s real, he’s real, he’s real. _

“You’re real.” The words fall from his lips as hazel eyes bore into his own. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Andrew responds, as if it should be obvious, as if Neil hadn’t betrayed him only hours before and become a completely different person.

He feels tears drip down the sides of his face, and Andrew’s other hand moves to push them away. A broken noise slips past his lips, “ _ Why?” _

Nathaniel doesn’t think he’s ever really seen Andrew smile, not a true smile, not like the hesitant one that tries to tug across his lips. It’s so small he can barely make it out, but Nathaniel has spent so long watching him, he thinks it would be impossible to miss. 

“Because you idiot.” Andrew starts, his fingers moving in a soothing motion as wisps of unconsciousness pulls at the back of Nathaniel’s mind, “I’m your partner whether I like it or not.”

* * *

Andrew isn’t sure what he expected when Allison and him had first arrived at the safehouse. It was small, to begin with, and unassuming in the outskirts of Baltimore. The other houses surrounding it made the area into a quiet and quaint neighbourhood that helped Andrew feel mildly more secure in dragging an injured Neil through its doors. 

What he really didn’t expect was a young girl to answer it. 

Her curly black hair was tied up into a tight bun, and her large hoodie swallowed up her smaller form. Andrew halted for a moment, but didn’t pull Neil away from her when she rushed out with a gasp, her hands instantly moving to grab at his bandaged face.

“Holy fuck, Allison you didn’t say it was this bad.” She cried, flashing an accusing glare over to the blonde who pushed past them both.

“Yeah, well, I was getting to that, now shut up and get him in here before anyone sees.” 

With that they had huddled into the place, and the girl - Robin, Andrew now knew, directed them into a spare room so they could put Neil on the bed. Neil didn’t make any other signs of being awake again, only grunting softly when he was placed on the cushions and Andrew had pulled the blanket over his form once he was done rechecking the bandages he and Allison had done earlier. 

“There isn’t much more we can do.” Robin is saying by the doorway, “You guys did everything I would have.” 

Andrew shot her a questioning look.

Robin shrugged, “I used to want to be a nurse, and my dad was a doctor. I know some stuff, and I’ve been brushing up on it since moving here.” She answered, before motioning weakly at Neil. “Figured it might come in handy.”

“Why?” 

Robin paused for a few moments before answering, “I hope to find a way to repay him I guess.” 

_ Ah,  _ Andrew thought,  _ Abram’s still collecting strays.  _

He gives her a stiff nod in return, and notes that she doesn’t leave like he hoped she would. Her body still pressed along the door frame watching as Andrew drug a chair closer to Neil’s bed. 

“We have another room you can stay in.” She finally says once Andrew settles. “It won’t be much to set it up.” 

“I’m fine here.” 

Robin gives him a knowing look before nodding her head and ducking out of the doorway. Out of the prying eyes of others, Andrew lets his body sag, his head dropping into his hands as he lets the exhaustion finally lay over him. Neil was safe for now, he supposed. But he had no fucking clue where they were supposed to go from here. As it were Neil couldn’t even be conscious without making no fucking sense. Without ripping out Andrew’s heart with pleading eyes and broken whimpers of pain. 

His broken  _ why  _ played in a constant loop in his mind, the fingers twitching for pain but still reaching for him, for Andrew. 

_ It was all real to me,  _ Neil had told him before walking to his sure death. Andrew didn’t know what to believe, but after that, he doesn’t think Neil could have faked it. 

Reaching a hand out, he gently placed his beside Neil’s unmoving one. Staring at the contrast of white bandages and Andrew’s own blood stained fingertips. Neil’s blood. That had coated them not even thirty minutes earlier. 

But still, Neil’s chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, alive. Not in a plastic body bag resting at a stranger's feet. New scars will line his face, and his arms. But he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

Andrew rests his head on the edge of the bed, feeling the distant weight of Neil in the mattress, and let’s himself close his eyes for a few moments. 

* * *

Nathaniel wakes this time in a bed, the walls surrounding him a bleary grey and the sheets wrapped up to his chin are a plain white. His body aches, but his head finally feels clear enough to think straight. The air around him smells stale and dusty, he’s in a room that hasn’t been used for awhile, the walls are bare and the ceiling isn’t familiar. 

Panic is the first emotion Nathaniel feels for the first time in awhile. But he tries to throw it off as pointless - if it was his father who had gotten him, he wouldn’t be in a bed. His father, for as long as Nathaniel had known him - was never one for comfort, even if it was just for show.

He pulls at his wrists, he doesn’t find any handcuffs holding him down so it isn’t the police. Another issue that hasn’t caught up to him yet. 

With a huff, Nathaniel tries to rearrange himself so he could force himself to sit up. But his plans come to a grinding halt when his entire body throbs and all the air in his lungs comes out in a wheeze. 

His eyes fly down to his body, and he isn’t able to make much out through the white blanket covering him but his eyes do fall on something else that is enough to make Nathaniel’s breath leave him again. 

Because at the edge of his bed, with one hand resting inches away from his own, blond hair sprawled across the mattress where his head is resting on his arm. Is a sleeping Andrew. His chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his lips parted slightly as his eyelashes ghost along his cheek. It takes everything in Nathaniel not to reach out and touch, to skim a finger along his skin to assure himself that Andrew is real and not a hallucination the bloodloss had conjured up.

“Andrew.” He manages to wheeze out, the words are hoarse and heavy. But Nathaniel doesn’t want to send Andrew into a panic by touching him. 

Andrew’s fingers twitch beside his own, hazel eyes fluttering open for a moment still looking hazed by sleep. Nathaniel shifts his body, still trying to bring himself higher up on the bed. The movement sends Andrew reeling back, blinking his eyes rapidly before wincing and raising a hand to cup the back of his neck. 

“Fuck, I hate getting krinks.” He grumbles, rolling his shoulders and still not looking over in Nathaniel’s direction. Anxiety keeps flooding his body as his mind keeps trying to replay the moments that had happened before this but they only come too in bits and pieces. 

Andrew knows everything. Andrew saw who he was, and Andrew had come after him. This doesn’t surprise him. 

What does, is the fact he can make out the image of Andrew exploding into Nathaniel’s room with a gun pointed at his chest, and Nathaniel isn’t dead. 

‘ _ I’m your partner’  _

He blinks, Andrew knows everything, and Andrew has come after him. But now they are both still here, sitting in a dusty room, alive.

“Stop thinking so hard, I don’t need you passing out again.” Andrew mutters to his left, “That shit got old pretty fast.” 

Nathaniel stares, because Andrew is looking at him calmly now. His body, though not completely relaxed, is still startling so given the situation. 

_ “I’m still your partner, whether I like it or not.”  _

He flicks his eyes down to Andrew’s other hand still outstretched on the mattress, see’s his own resting not fair from it and swallows the overwhelming urge to cross the distance.

Finally, he forces himself to speak.

“You’re here.” 

Andrew blinks, “Yes.” 

“You're okay?” Nathaniel has to ask and isn’t surprised when Andrew levels him with a glare.

“Better than you.” 

Nathaniel nods, playing with the edge of the blanket, trying to ignore the sweltering ache in his chest, or the rapid beating of his heart.

“Kevin?” 

“Probably still at the crime scene.” 

“Right.” 

Andrew says nothing more, his eyes studying Nathaniel’s face, slowly. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he can’t tell if it’s from concern or anger. 

“Why aren’t you at the crime scene?” He asks instead.

“I left to find you.” 

Nathaniel's mouth dries, his fingers trembling as they curl around the blanket. He’s waiting for Andrew to snap, for Andrew to start yelling but the other man sits impassively still, Nathaniel can feel the warmth radiating off his body and takes more effort than he cares to admit to not lunge out and pull Andrew to him. 

“You don’t have to be here.” He says softly, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m aware.” Andrew snaps, the first show of real emotion since he woke.

The last thing he wants to do is trap Andrew. The stilted conversation between them already speaks wonders for the position Nathaniel has put them in. They could never be the same, the curtains were pulled back and all that was left to show was Nathaniel. Bloody and raw and nothing like the man Andrew had known.

“You can still change your mind.” He whispers out, unable to meet Andrew’s gaze. “If you haven’t already, Andrew I-”

“Neil-”

Andrew’s hand has fisted into the sheets, Nathaniel still can’t look up. The words he actually wanted to say finally spilled from his mouth.

“I already decided a long time ago, that I wanted you to be the one that took me down. It’s the only thing I can do to repay y-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Andrew interrupts through gritted teeth, his voice harsher and angrier than before. It’s enough to cause Nathaniel to flinch away. “Don’t even think about finishing that fucking sentence.”

“Andre-”

A warm hand covers his own, it’s gentle and soft. A direct contradiction to the fury rolling off of the man beside him. He hears the chair creak when Andrew stands, a hand reaching out and curling around Nathaniel’s chin. Forcing him to look up into burning hazel. 

“I’m not losing you again.” Andrew says instead. 

He can’t breath.

Because he wants this to be true, but it can’t be. Andrew couldn’t possibly...

“You don’t even know who I am! How can you say that? How can you even look at me right now?” Nathaniel knew he sounded pathetic, he must look pathetic too. Fuck, he  _ was  _ pathetic. “I lied to you, over and over Andrew. I’m the son of the  _ Butcher.  _ Do you understand what that means?” 

Andrew regarded him silently, but still didn’t pull away. Studying Nathaniel before finally shrugging lightly, “You’re a pretty shitty liar.”

Nathaniel blanched. “Wh- what? You knew?” 

“No,” Andrew clarified, “But your stories you told me weren’t far from the truth were they? Your fear for the Butcher, your anger towards what happened to your mother. Fuck, you showed up at my doorstep calling yourself a monster, was that all fake? An act?”

Nathaniel shook his head weakly, “It still wasn’t the full truth.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

This caused him to look up, head rearing back to stare at Andrew in disbelief. “Why do you think Andrew.” 

Andrew’s face still stays a blank mask, but Nathaniel doesn’t miss the way his hand inches up his cheek when he says the next thing. 

“You told me that everything was real to you. Were you lying then?”

It takes him a few moments to realize what Andrew is saying. His memories as Andrew was carried out of the building by Kevin and the look of betrayal that covered his face, the words Nathaniel rushed out in hopes for him to understand - so he wouldn’t mistake that every moment with Andrew wasn’t the most real he had ever felt.

“ _ No.”  _ He gasped,  _ “ _ God no, Andrew. I never thought - I, you made me feel so real. You made me alive, every moment with you I wasn’t my father’s son. I just…  _ was.  _ And I didn’t want to lose you, I couldn't lose you. I couldn’t lose anyone.” He sputters, feeling Andrew’s fingers brush alongside a bandage that was tapped to his cheek. “I didn’t feel like a monster with you.” 

The tension that Andrew had been carrying in his shoulder leaves him, his brows stop furrowing ever so slightly and he runs a finger underneath Nathaniel’s bottom lip. His eyes follow it slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Me too.” He says finally, it’s quiet and Nathaniel almost misses it but when he realizes what Andrew was saying his eyes grow wide. But Andrew is already talking over him before he can say anything else. “I asked you to let me help you, I mean it. You’re my partner Neil. And I’m not losing you again.”

Hazel locks with ice blue and Andrew taps his finger just below his eye. “No more hiding Nathaniel, Abram, Neil - whatever the fuck it is. We will talk about everything, I’m still fucking pissed but - I know you. Your name doesn’t fucking matter to me. That’s enough right now.”

“Okay.” Neil whispers back, intertwining his hand with his partner.

Andrew shifted closer, his eyes dropping to Neil’s lips and Neil returns the favour. His heart is picking up for a different reason now. 

Reaching out, Neil tries to slip his fingers into Andrew’s hair. Disbelief, hope and an unmistakable crushing feeling of need crashes over Neil. But before he can make it, there’s a loud bang on the door and Robin comes catering in the room with Allison only a few steps behind.

“He’s awake!” Robin cheers, as she ushers a disgruntled Andrew out of the way. A cup of cold water in her hand that she passes to Neil. 

Allison strides over to the other side of the bed, as Neil tries to reach out for the cup. Seeing the stretch of white bandages that run up his arms and around his chest. The throbbing that encased most of his body makes Neil’s mind run wild with what his skin must look like now.

“It isn’t as bad as you think.” Andrew says, as if reading Neil’s mind. “For fighting off eleven armed people, I think you’re a walking fucking mircale.”

Curling his fingers around the cold glass and sipping tentatively, he shook his head. “No,” He begins, “They were told to bring me alive, I’m assuming my father wants the honours of slitting my throat for betraying him.”

“Well, guess we need to slit his first.” Allison says evenly from beside him, her hand reaching out and tossing his hair about. “But first, you need to rest up and heal. We worry about your father for another day.”

Neil opened his mouth to protest but Andrew’s hand closes over it before he can.

“No. She’s right. Healing first junkie,  _ then _ we figure out how to take out your dad.” 

“We?” Neil murmurs against Andrew’s hand and enjoys the way he rolls his eyes at him. 

“Come on, I have experience killing shitty parents. You need me on this whether you wanna admit it or not.” 

Neil hears himself laugh before he realizes he’s even doing it, but it slips out nonetheless and Neil lets himself giggle against Andrew’s palm as the relief finally washes over him.

_ He’s alive and so is Andrew. And Andrew is here. Andrew wants to be here with him.  _

“Hm.” Allison cuts in, “Knew there was a reason I liked you.” She says, pointing a finger at Andrew. “You are the dirtiest fucking cop in Baltimore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to so-many-fandoms-so-little-life (tumblr) or ncas on a03 for reading over this on such short notice
> 
> ahhhhhhh okay i always imagined that andrew wouldn't really give a fuck who neil was in the end. i hope that doesn't disappoint anyone? the angst will still be there though don't worry. sorry for the late posting i love you all so very much and thank you for the comments, they really do make my day


	13. Everything I Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten shouldn't -can't- be together.
> 
> But maybe they don't care about that anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; sexual content (nothing super explicit), mention of self harm scars, implied past child abuse.
> 
> sorry for the wait.
> 
> chapter song title; 'everything I wanted', by billie eilish.

Nathaniel Wesninski is a concerningly fast healer in Andrew Minyards humble opinion. It takes him only a day before he’s back on his feet and shuffling his way into the kitchen. One hand clasped around his shoulder, his face pale making the strands of auburn hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, a harsh contrast. An empty glass is clutched in his free hand and Andrew is leaping out of his seat from the living room to meet Neil at the doorway.

“I’m _fine_ , Andrew.” He grumbles as Andrew snatches the cup away from him and brings it under the tap to refill it.

“Yeah, sure, tell me that when you don’t look like complete shit.” 

And Andrew fucking means it. Dark circles line Neil’s eyes, the usual brilliant blue is dull and tired, his hair is a mess and in desperate need for a shower and the new wounds on his face have done nothing to help his argument. 

Neil opens his mouth, probably to make a sharp retort, but he closes it again. Andrew tries not to be annoyed by it, but even after their conversation both of them have been tip toeing around each other. Andrew feels off kilter whenever Neil is around, because Andrew was so painfully aware of how much he needed him to be there. 

He also doesn’t like the way something sorrowful flashes to life in Neil’s face. His hand drifting up self consciously to hide his wound and Andrew almost curses himself at his mistake and bats Neil’s hand away.

“I meant in a ‘I’m dying’ sense, not a physical looks sense, idiot.” He mutters, shoving the glass of water to the other with more force than strictly necessary. 

Still, Neil grabs it in stride and shrugs. “I know I’m not pretty to look at Andrew you don’t have to make me feel better.”

With that he turns away, shuffling back towards his bedroom and closing the door as silently as he can. Andrew is about ready to ripe his hair out.

_Why didn’t you say anything? You fucking idiot! Go after him, talk to him. Stop this shit._

But still, he stays standing in the kitchen staring at Neil’s door instead of moving closer to it.

He doesn’t want to suffocate Neil, he doesn’t want to push him, he doesn't want to show him how much Andrew still needs him. He spent many years training himself not to care for anyone, to keep himself as distant as possible, to save himself from this - the emotions that he can never feel lightly - the scars on his wrists are proof enough of that. 

But of course he feels for the worst possible person. 

Andrew really tries to ignore the irony in that. 

As Andrew stands in the kitchen pondering if he should follow after Neil, Robin opens up the door to her bedroom and makes her way out. She pauses when she sees Andrew standing there, her eyes darting to Neil’s closed door still in their line of sight and back to Andrew again. 

He hates how a sixteen year girl seemingly has pity on him when her eyebrows crease. 

“You should talk to him.” She says, her voice annoyingly sweet that he’s almost reminded of Renee. “I think he misses you.” 

“I don’t need your advice.” Andrew bites back in habit but Robin doesn’t seem phased by it, he isn’t sure of her background but it seems it has laboured enough patiences to deal with traumatized adults.

“Listen, you’ve both been walking circles around each other and I don’t think Neil is going to be the first one to reach out, I don’t think he knows that he’s allowed too.”

Andrew frowns, “I already did reach out.” 

“When you both were high on adrenaline and fear, I’m sure you guys have some things you need to talk about from before. Maybe start with that, figure out where you two stand.” She suggests, before sliding around him and wandering towards the fridge. “Communication is important, Andrew.” 

“You’re sixteen.” He spits back, maybe because it’s the truth, or maybe because he’s annoyed that a sixteen year old is giving him advice with the same confidence of his therapist. Still, he knows, deep down, that she’s right. 

But it doesn’t make anything easier. Because if Andrew goes in there and asks Neil the questions hanging in his mind and doesn’t get a response that he likes. What happens then?

“I’m having a shower first.” He decides allowed and doesn’t miss the heavy sigh that Robin makes. 

“Allison’s right!” She shouts, “You two are idiots!”

* * *

Neil is resting on his bed, willing himself to disappear, when Andrew walks in. 

He’s wearing a black hoodie now and his hair damp from a shower he hadn’t heard him take. He looks more awake now, Neil notices, and colour is returning to his face, it’s enough to take a slight pressure off his shoulder he hadn’t been aware he had been harbouring. 

So Neil shifts, turning to face him and forces his best smile on his lips, though it falters quickly when his cheek stings and Andrew looks away from it. 

“Hey.” Neil forces out, scooting up and Andrew nods his greeting before moving to sit on the chair by his bed. “What’s up?”

Andrew glances down to his hands for a moment, Neil notes his bands sticking slightly out of his sleeves and wonders if he's still carrying knives in them. 

“I need to ask you some things.” Andrew says slowly, fingers stretching to toy with the comforter. Neil notes his fingers are still dyed slightly pink. “About before.” 

Neil expected this, wanted this, but his gut still tightens.

“Anything,” he promises. 

Andrew has always been a man of few words, but Neil doesn’t like this new silence that stretches between them. Doesn’t like the way Andrew keeps his eyes downcasted so he doesn’t have to meet Neil’s eyes, or the way his shoulders grow stiffer with each passing second. 

Finally, Andrew finds his tongue, or deems Neil worthy of a response, “Why Abram?” He asks, “Why do all of that, make up another identity, why not just talk to me?” His tone is flat like it always is. But Neil fears some anger is still leaking into it. He tries not to let panic over take him, or let the guilt consume him either.

He knows he did what he had too, he knows Andrew knows that too. 

“Would you have really listened to me if I had told you then? Or would you have arrested me and gone to find the kids, do what you thought was the right thing at that time?”

“I might have listened.” Andrew argues but Neil shakes his head. 

“No, you wouldn’t have. You thought Abram was a monster from the start and it took a long time for you to trust him - to trust me.” He pauses, trying to find the right words, trying to keep Andrew listening. “When I took Mads, I had put a plan in place to keep myself safe in case something like that happened. But when everything actually did go down, I had seen how you treated her, how you reacted to losing her. I couldn’t just sit there and watch you torture yourself over something I had done, so I - I thought I could tell you a little of the truth, even if it was behind the mask.” 

He had hated it, hated being so close to Andrew but not able to act himself. Hated deceiving him. But Neil doesn’t bother saying this, he hopes that his explanation and face can explain it enough.

“You said you needed an officer on your side though?”

Neil shrugs, “We did, but I could have managed without. I was using that more as an excuse to myself so I could get you on our side. Besides, Mads needed you too.”

Andrew leans back on his chair, and crosses his arms, “You killed that entire gang for me, for the force, why?”

Trying not to be jarred up the sudden turn in direction Neil’s eyes shot up, “You know exactly why, Andrew. I meant what I said that night you agreed to work with Abram, you were under my protection, and they hurt you.”

“Your protection? What does that even mean?”

“It meant that no one should have fucking touched you, I’m the Butcher’s son, not many people cross me, Andrew. But someone did, and they hurt you.” He clenches his fist together, remembering each moment he had thought he was too late. “I couldn’t let them do that.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“I never said you couldn’t, but I promised to have your back as your partner since day one. That doesn’t change depending on who I’m pretending to be at the moment.” Neil snaps. He knows it’s stupid to be angry at Andrew over this, but he can’t smother it. He can’t take the image of Andrew bleeding, cornered and dying from his mind. 

When he looks over again, Andrew is studying him with a blank expression but his eyes are softer now, his hand resting on the edge of Neil’s bed, pinky outstretched in the direction of Neil’s own. 

“Calm down Junkie, I’m not interrogating you. I just needed to clear some things up.” 

Neil nods carefully, brushing is pinkie alongside Andrew’s. Trying to keep his heart rate under control as the two sit in an old silence that is familiar again for the both of them. 

“I don’t blame you, you know… if you feel differently.” Neil whispers, he isn’t sure what he’s saying, isn’t sure what it really means. But judging by the way Andrew stills next to him, he has a feeling that deep down they both do. “I would too, if I was you.” 

Hazel's eyes shoot up to stare at him, hard and silent. Neil offers a wavy smile,

“Thank you for having my back anyways though, know that I will always have yours too.” 

Neil doesn’t know how Andrew feels, not truly, not underneath the crushing realization that someone he had thought he had known turned out to be someone completely different. He takes his pinkie back slowly, and closes his eyes with a shaky exhale, he thinks that maybe this is something like heartbreak. 

He rolls his head to face a different direction and tries to let the tension leach from his body. Andrew still hasn’t spoken, and Neil tries not to let that sting. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met as different people, in different circumstances” Neil says softly into the silent room, he lets himself sneak another look at Andrew and wonders if this will be the last time he sees him, “I really think we would have made pretty incredible partners.” 

He isn’t talking about work, and Andrew knows it. 

No matter how much they want it, no matter what their hearts need, they can never be. Not like that. Neil thinks he’s grateful that the only person he has even fallen for is Andrew Minyard, but he is sorrowful that maybe, maybe Andrew had fallen in return. 

Because then that means that in less than 24 hours, Neil will be breaking his heart.

Judging by the hard stare Andrew is returning to him, he knows it. He already knows somehow, what is to come. Neil wants to reach out, to hold him to his chest and give them both this - at least for tonight. But the world has never been kind and Nathaniel Wesninski has never gotten what he wants. He fears if he ever does, the world will crumble beneath him. 

After a few more moments of silence, Andrew stands to leave and gives him a small nod, his eyes are pained but they hold Neil’s gaze as he slips back out of the door.

The phone Neil keeps hidden and buried under his pillow buzzes again, and Neil, finally, after holding it back for the past week, lets a single tear fall down his cheek.

* * *

Andrew is well used to living like this, no cell phone, limited food, and overbearing feeling of death. It’s what his entire childhood consisted of.

But now this time he’s sharing it with three other people, one being a young girl who is clearly traumatized - but that isn’t what makes her special. It’s her acting like their literal maid. She dashes around the house, cleaning up the dishes Allison leaves behind or Andrew places down for a moment, she cleans furiously and is constantly knocking on Neil’s door, being his stand-in nurse. She’s sweet, too sweet for whatever has happened to her and he’s glad Neil helped her but he just wishes she would calm down for a _moment._ All her running around gives him a headache. 

When Neil finally comments on it at dinner one night, she blushes scarlet. Her eyes darting away as she giggles nervously. Andrew decides that Mads would like her. 

“It honestly helps me calm down. Besides there really isn’t a lot to do around here.” Is her reasoning and while it annoys him, he can’t blame her. Apparently years of being his own person and having a steady connection to the internet has made his ability of entertaining himself lackluster. The actual boredom of hiding out is the worst when the soul crushing paranoia begins to wear down. 

“We’ll be out of here soon enough, Neil is healing up nicely and I can knock him out with more pain meds so we don’t run the risks of him reopening any wounds.” Allison offers offhandedly, waving her manicured hand in the air but her nails are beginning to chip and break. Although, Andrew can’t say he feels any pity for her since she’s the only one of them who has been able to leave the house. She’s dubbed herself the arin lady and since apparently Andrew is officially registered as a missing person, she gets dibs. 

Andrew isn’t sure what to do about being a missing person right now, or how he’s going to lie himself out of this. But all it takes is one look at Neil, smiling to himself at the bickering between Allison and Robin to make everything worth it. 

No matter how tedious. 

It’s then, when Andrew is shoving a spoonful of mash potatoes into his mouth that the front door swings open.

Charles, is a large man. For the first night Andrew met him working alongside Abram, he had been labeled a substantial threat for him to keep an eye on, but the longer Andrew had gotten to know him - the more Andrew began to realize he was just an oversized blubbering idiot.

This is how Charles almost ends up with a dagger in his throat (courtesy of Neil), two bullets in his skull (courtesy of Allison and himself), and a faceful of steaming hot potatoes (courtesy of Robin). 

“Holy fuck!” The larger man screeches, his hands flying into the air as Neil’s feet land on top of the table and halts himself from sending his black dagger flying. “Motherfucking fuck! It’s me! It’s me!”

Andrew takes a shaky breath and pulls his finger off of the trigger of his gun he had yanked from the band of his jeans. Allison follows pursuit, looking lost for a few seconds before rage takes over her features. 

“What the fuck were you think Charles!” She shouts, throwing her gun onto the table which makes Robin yelp and drop her dish of potatoes. “Do you have a fucking brain? Seriously! Do you? Is anything fucking up there you stupid hunk of fucking, useless, miserable piece-”

“Allison,” Neil cuts in, looking pale himself as he slips his weapon away, “He gets it.” 

“You guys gave me a key!” Charles argues, looking hurt and holding the item in question forward, “You told me I could come in at any time!”

“I don’t think Nate meant when we are in fucking lockdown!” Allison screeches, throwing her hands into the air, “At least fucking knock!”

Neil lands swiftly beside Andrew, a muted groan slipping past his mouth and Andrew is already moving forward but Charles eyes have already locked onto his target, another pathetic sounding noise leaving him as he rushes forward.

“Holy fuck shit man! I thought you were dead Nat-” Charles begins but his voice caughts off in shock when his gaze finally lands on Andrew standing stalk still next to Neil. The look of confusion and horror that crosses his face is almost amusing enough to make Andrew laugh. 

“Josten!” Charles instead fumbles into, “Neil Josten, civilian consultant! I was very concerned for you when I heard about your disappearance, you see my friend Abram he-” 

“He knows Charles, it’s okay,” Neil cuts in before the other man can embarrass himself further, Allison groans from behind him. 

“Seriously Nate, why do you always have to ruin the fun.” 

Neil sends her a half hearted glare from over his shoulder, ignoring the way Charles is openly gaping at the two of them. Andrew can’t say he’s surprised that everyone else hasn’t been updated with the situation, but still, he figured Allison must have done _something._

He joins Neil on the stare down on Allison but she meets his eyes with a lazy shrug. Robin to her left quickly scrambles to her feet, waving a hand around excitedly to catch Charles’ attention.

“Hey! Charles would like dinner? I made chicken so it won’t be all horrible for you.”

Charles hesitates for a moment, blinking back and forth once more from Andrew to Neil before shrugging and turning round to the table. 

“Oh Robin,” he says with a smile now morphing onto his face, “You always do know that I love chicken.”

Neil frowns, as everyone begins settling in and Allison claps her hands loudly. The flinch that rolls of his body makes Andrew’s hand shoot out to steady him but he stops himself in the last moment. 

He hates this. 

“Perfect! And while we eat we can discuss how we’re gonna kill Nate’s psycho father.” 

“A bullet to the head and no witnesses.” Andrew snaps in, pushing Neil’s chair in alongside him, trying to not watch the other seat himself. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.

“Man, Andrew, who the fuck let you be a cop?” Charles breaks in and Andrew shoots him a bored look.

“I don’t get caught.” 

Charles blinks at him and Andrew sighs, flicking a crumb off the table, “Just kill the fucking Butcher and be done with it, dragging this out will make it messy and more complainted.” 

_(And give him more time to take Neil away_ )

Neil taps his finger against the table, his eyes distant as he hums under his breath, “Most of his inner circle has already been dealt with, all that should be left is his bodyguard.” He pauses, “The kids are still safe right?”

Andrew’s breath hitches, he hadn’t even thought about the fallout for the kids. But Charles is already nodding his head, before pulling something out of his pocket and pushing it towards Neil. 

“Her name is Bee, she takes in kids who have fallen through the cracks with the system. She’ll either help support them or find them a new home to go too. The rest of the idiots are already on their way back to their families.” 

A small breath of relief slips past both his and Neil’s lips, and he watches more tension leak out of the other’s shoulders. “Good,” he says, giving Charles a small nod, “That’s good.”

“What about everything else? You know what they are saying right? That you killed your father’s entire inner circle?” Charles cuts in, his brows drown together in concern, “That’s impossible Nate…. right?”

“I know what a dead body looks like Charles,” Neil snaps, “I am confident that they won’t be a problem anymore.”

“They’re monsters Nate! I’ve seen them, there’s no way you could have possibly cleared an entire room of highly trained killers.”

Neil’s eyes are a cold inferno when he glances up at the other, his lips curling into a sneer and it’s times like these that Andrew cannot forget where his partner came from.

“If you think they are monsters, then what do you think the thing they raised would become?” 

The sentence is borderline overdramatic but it’s enough to still Andrew, enough for him to watch the anger flicker into fear before dying away behind a mask that is slipped firmly in place. Charles blanches at the other’s tone, and Allison’s head snaps up. A frown tugs at her own lips but she doesn’t speak, no one does, until Neil sighs.

“My father is my own problem, I will deal with him myself.” 

_That_ sparks their voices to life.

“Oh no fucking way-”

“Go fuck yourself, are you serious-”

“Nate, you’re an idiot-” 

“That’s bullshit-”

Andrew swivels on his chair and let’s his coldest glare lay into his partner, his stupid martyr partner who thinks he needs to do everything on his own.

“If you think I’m planning to lose you again, you are sorely mistaken.” He snarls, he knows Neil is thinking of their earlier conversation when a wince rolls through him.

“It might be for the best.” 

“Bullshit!” Allison hisses, “We are in this until the end Nate, no matter what. We are taking that bastard out together, you hear me? All of us.”

Charles nods his head, “This is something we need to do together, Andrew is right. We make this quick so it isn’t messy and we figure out where to go from there.” 

“Nate’s cover hasn’t been blown yet as far as I can tell,” Allison says, “Either way, it isn’t public knowledge yet and we have connections to make any loose ends disappear. We claim him and Andrew were kidnapped by the Butcher because of Andrew’s work into the Butcher’s case and we should be set. Which means if you really want to, Nate, you could stay being Neil Josten once this shit is done.” A sure smile crosses her face, “You can stay working alongside Andrew if you wanted.”

A large part of Andrew hates the way his heart skips a beat in his chest at those words, at the idea that he can keep Neil as close as they were before - that maybe they…

Andrew’s thoughts disperse the moment he sees the agony in Neil’s eyes, the way his fingers curl around the edge of the table and squeeze, the way he keeps his face tilted downward. 

_Something isn’t right._

“Of course I would love that.” He whispers, “More than anything.” 

Allison grins, “Then we make it happen, come on. Let’s figure out how we kill this son of a bitch and we go from there.”

Everyone pulls into talking but Andrew doesn’t miss the way Neil says little. Doesn’t miss the way he begins to fold into himself, fear and something else is an unspoken beast that hovers over his shoulders.

He does not like the way Neil avoids his eyes. 

Before the sun has even set, Charles is clambering to his feet and shrugging his jacket back on.

“Robin,” Neil cuts in, “Go with Charles to Bee, I don’t want you anywhere near here when we finish this.” 

Robin's mouth instantly flies open to argue, but Neil shakes his head and raises a hand. 

“It’ll help everyone, okay? I’m sure this lady will need help watching so many kids for right now.” 

Either Robin agrees, or she also sees the strain on Neil’s features because she closes her mouth with a snap and her lips flick into an uncertain smile. Her small hands reach out and touch Neil’s lightly from across the table. 

“Be safe, okay? I still owe you.”

Neil rolls his eyes but gives her a small smile in return, “Sure thing.”

Charles gives Neil’s shoulder a tight squeeze in passing but otherwise doesn’t say much, he’ll be back by tomorrow to talk the rest of the plan through. But Andrew doesn’t like how this feels so much like a goodbye. 

Allison is next, slipping on her shoes and jacket. “I’m going out to find Sam, we need as many people as we can get.” She shifts her look over to Andrew, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” 

“Isn’t that what I always do?” 

She laughs, as if it’s a joke, and disappears behind the white door that Neil keeps his gaze locked too. His hand is trembling by his side.

The house is suddenly crushingly large, somehow the distance between the both of them grows with each passing moment and Andrew is unsure how to bridge the gap. He doesn’t know how to read Neil right now, doesn’t know why he can’t recognize the person standing in front of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks instead, because he can point out the obvious if everyone chooses to ignore them. 

Neil’s grin is bitter, “I don’t think I ever have been.” He says easily, before he’s turning on his heels and walking away, he’s heading towards his room and Andrew wants to reach out and stop him but his arm doesn’t move.

 _Move_ , his heart cries. 

_It’s pointless,_ his brain reminds him.

Andrew Minyard doesn’t follow logic, he doesn’t and he shouldn’t but-

But Andrew doesn’t follow him when he slams his bedroom door closed.

-

Andrew aches. 

He knows what Neil told him, he knows what it means, he knows, he knows, _he knows_. 

But Andrew hates the world and he’s sure Neil is with him on that, so he stands outside of his partner's door when the sun starts tipping behind the mountains and tries to convince himself to walk away. 

He could, he could walk out the door, leave a note and promise to help Neil on his side of things. There is no reason for him to be here, not after Charles and Allison have started crafting a plan to take out The Butcher and keep Neil’s name clean - he isn’t needed. 

Neil has made himself clear. He knows that him and Andrew can never be together. 

Andrew knows it too.

But he’s still standing here.

And there is a hole in his chest so big, so deep that he can’t _fucking breathe._

He wants Neil, he wants the man who sat next to him in his car with a stolen cigarette in hand, black sunglasses on, quick mouth firing back retorts to Andrew’s words and lips spread into the big stupid fucking grin.

He wants his partner that used his body as a shield, who laughed at a dead body and came running at the first sign of danger. His partner who glared at every person on his squad until they started actually getting to know Andrew. The man who watched Andrew show him his darkest innerworkings, the demons that made him cruel and wicked, and took them into his gentle scarred hands and still smiled at him. Who promised to carry the same burden as him. 

Andrew places a palm against the door.

He didn’t give a fuck who Neil Josten is, who Abram was, or who Nathaniel Wesninski was supposed to become. 

He isn’t letting the world take this from him too.

So he opens the door.

When Andrew steps into Neil’s room, the air from his lungs is stolen. 

The sun is setting, orange hues paint the room in a soft glow that makes the dead walls seem more alive. Shadows cast along the floor, Neil’s silhouette is at the centre of it all. The man in question is staring out of the window, the light catching his hair and making it look like fire - something so close to who Neil is at the core. But now his head is bowed ever so, the defeat rests along his shoulders, shows in the way he keeps his arms crossed across his chest, in the way he doesn’t turn when he hears the door open, he keeps his back turned on Andrew. 

And that’s when Andrew realizes Neil isn’t wearing a shirt. 

That’s what takes his breath away, because he’s only seen Neil shirtless when he was covered in blood, covered in pasty white bandages. Never like this. With each step he takes, Neil’s body becomes clearer, turning into focus. White marks, line every part of skin. Deep gashes, long healed, a bullet exit wound, three of them. Skin completely marred on his left side, torn, and rigid. The colour stolen from it. 

Another mark, one of a knife, one that looks newer than the rest. 

Andrew remembers the feeling of digging his blade into Abram’s back one dark night in an empty alleyway. Sure the man in front of him was evil. 

“Neil.” Andrew whispers.

Then Neil turns. 

Blue eyes, once filled with such light, such power. Hold an unspeakable pain. He drops his arms to his side, and Andrew thought it couldn’t get worse. His marred back was enough, but his chest is a different type of battle ground. 

The first is the iron burned into his skin, old and wrinkled but Andrew feels something else break inside. 

_“Did your daddy hurt you again?”_ Mads’ voice echoes in his mind.

Deep slashes this time, precise ones, ones that someone wanted to do, did to cause pain. His stomach is the worst of it, covered in scars that overlap each other, over and over again, long strips that took repeated times to cause, he can see where the massive scar on his back wraps around to his front. Taking up more skin, more hours of hurt. The entrance point of the bullet wounds clear as day, spots where knives must have flown and been embedded into his skin scatter along his chest.

Andrew knew, he knew and he knew. But now that he sees it, he feels it settled. Anger is an emotion he knows well, but he’s never felt it like this. Like ice in his bones, bitting, chilling and sure. 

“I’ll kill them all.” Is the first and only thing Andrew can say into the silence between them when he finally meets blue eyes again. 

Neil smiles, a sad one, and shakes his head. “Most of them are already dead.”

“Most. Not all.” 

An important distinction he thinks, one that he plans to correct. 

Neil looks away again, his arms moving to cover his chest. His body hunching in on itself, as if attempting to hide from not only Andrew but himself.

“Why are you showing me this, Neil?” 

“Because I need you to know that I understand why you can’t feel the way you used to.” He says, “The feelings you have for Neil aren’t ones I expect you to have for me, I’m a walking monster Andrew-”

“You-” Andrew begins to interrupt but is cut off from Neil’s broken voice.

“Don’t.” He whispers, “Don’t make this harder from me Andrew. I need you to see, I need you to see all of me and know that the me you thought you knew isn’t the same. I’m fucked beyond hope.” Neil looks up, “I don’t want to ruin you too.”

Andrew steps forward, his legs moving before his brain does. He reaches a hand out, letting it hover in the space between them. 

“Yes or no?”

Neil looks at him, wounded. “Why are you doing this?”

“Yes or no, Neil.” He presses.

Neil sighs, there’s a battle waging inside him -the same one Andrew had fought just outside his bedroom door. 

Andrew can see what side wins when Neil opens his mouth and a desperate broken, “Yes,” falls between them.

With quick fingers, Andrew presses his palm onto the scar at Neil’s back. The one his own knife made when he had made Neil promise to never stab _Andrew_ in the back only weeks before. He sees the recognition flood into Neil’s face, he opens his mouth to say something but Andrew beats him to it.

“I added to this. To every wound on you, I added another when I promised to protect you.”

Neil frowns, “Don’t you dare take responsibility for that, are you forgetting you had no idea who I fucking was! I hit you in the face right after.”

“You never left a scar.” 

“Not all scars are physical.” Neil snaps back. 

Andrew shakes his head, pulling his hand away for Neil’s back and moving to cup the back of his neck instead, letting the warmth of Neil’s skin seep into his fingers. “You are a scar that I would gladly bear for the rest of my life, Neil Josten.”

Then Andrew kisses him. 

Slowly, giving Neil time to push him away, to tell him no, but Neil is rushing forward to meet him and their lips meet gently. He feels Neil sag into him, a small noise sounding from his throat as he presses against him. Andrew threads his fingers through auburn curls, trying to keep the kiss soft but desperation begins rushing out of them and Neil’s hands are cupping his face, trying to pull him closer. 

They stumble and Neil’s back hits a wall, Andrew presses a hand to his chest, feelings the bumps and ridges under his fingertips. He pulls away from Neil’s lips as slowly as he can, letting Neil chase after him once before he presses his forehead to the other.

“I see all of you.” Andrew promises because he’s never been more sure of anything in his life, “And I want all of you. I told you before, I don’t give a fuck what you’re name is or who you were suppose to become.” He reaches his hand up to cup Neil’s face, brushing along the scars that rest on his cheek, “Every mark on your body doesn’t make you a monster, Neil. It makes you a survivor. It makes you someone who should have broken a long time ago but still is here, still fighting despite everything. Despite your parents, despite the demons, despite the pain they put you through, despite what they told you you had to become.”

Neil’s breath stutters, his hands clinging to Andrew’s face tighter. 

“It makes you my partner still Neil, despite what even you think of yourself.”

“Andrew,” Neil breaths, his eyes glimmer in the soft glow of the sun. 

“Yes or no, Neil? Tell me what you want and I’ll give you it. Anything.”

Neil presses their foreheads together, angling his ever so slightly. “You, Andrew, I only want you.”

Andrew kisses him again, this time he isn’t as gentle as before. He lets the desperation show in every movement, in every grip of his fingertips and press of their lips. He kisses along Neil’s jaw, listening to every gasp that slips out of Neil’s mouth, his hands still staying above his neck so Andrew takes one by the wrist and presses it to his own chest. 

“You can touch me.” He says, before nipping at Neil’s ear and beginning to kiss down his neck. 

A ragged noise breaks from Neil, his hands scramble on Andrew's chest, clutching onto the black t-shirt he wears. Andrew continues, kissing the same scar he had nights ago, before moving lower - skimming over a bullet wound. 

“Andrew.” Neil gasps, “ _Fuck_ , Andrew.” 

He peers up for a moment, before hands grab onto Andrew’s face and haul him up to smash their lips back together, he can’t complain as Neil’s lips part to let Andrew in. Warmth is spreading throughout all of him, he’s wanted this, needed this for so long. Kissing Neil is drowning in the sweetest lakes, dying the only death he’s ever wanted.

With a sudden bout of confidence, he drops his hands to cup Neil’s thighs, pulling him up and letting Neil’s legs wrap around his waist. 

Neil makes a noise of surprise, pulling away briefly before glancing down. “Holy fuck Andrew.” 

“What?”

“That’s kinda hot.” 

The comment is something so _Neil,_ that Andrew almost drops him. Relief climbs up his throat when those blue irises sparkle and they fall back into being themselves together -

So, Andrew tries with all his might to swallow the growing blush on his cheeks, choosing to send him his best unimpressed glare. “Shut up Josten.” 

His partner inches back to life in the smirk that crosses his lips.

He pulls Neil off of the wall and turns them, enjoying the way that Neil lets his weight sag against his body, trusting Andrew to keep hold of him. He makes a few stumbling steps before the front of his legs bump into the bed and he drops Neil onto it. Watching the auburn bounce on the mattress with a light laugh, his eyes brightening with each passing moment. 

With a huff, Andrew reaches down, grasping the edge of his black shirt and toying with the hem. 

“Take it off,” Neil teases, before gesturing to himself, “Join me.” Before he’s patting the mattress next to him, “If you want to, of course.” 

Andrew openly rolls his eyes at his partner before pulling the garment off swiftly and before he thinks too hard about it, also pulls off his armbands. Letting them tumble down, never taking his eyes off of Neil who watches them fall. 

“Andrew.” He breathes, and Andrew is chasing him back down to the bed, his arms coming to frame the latters head as he presses harsh kisses to his mouth and straddles his hips. Andrew’s heart is pounding against his chest when he feels hesitant fingers curl around his biceps. “Andrew, are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ Neil, yes I’m sure.” 

Neil looks up at him almost shyly, before he turns his head and presses a soft kiss to the scars that line his wrists. Andrew sucks in a sharp breath, fascinated with watching Neil’s eyes flutter close as he presses his lips to each hurt on his arm. 

He’s never felt like this before, this overwhelming rush of need, the craving to be as close as possible to someone. Andrew has his history of hookups in dark clubs with men who can keep their arms behind their backs while Andrew took them apart. They had been tools for him to feel in control of his body again, an outlet to rid himself of the lust he’d feel for certain men at bars.

But that had been all it was, until Neil. 

Neil at first, had been like the others, someone Andrew felt attracted too, someone he maybe would have approached if he had met him a different way. But then he became _more._ So much more. Andrew wanted him, Andrew needed him. 

Andrew turns Neil face back to him and crushes their lips together again, enjoying the noise that Neil makes in surprise. He kisses Neil’s neck, taking his time as he presses fingers along the scars on his body. His lips chase after them, making sure to kiss every mark his partner has. He’s as gentle as a man like himself can be, to try and pour every feeling and ache he has for Neil into them. Fingers are threading through his hair, Neil cradling his face as he moans softly as Andrew presses down on a scar left behind from a dedicated blade.

He only pauses when he reaches the waistband of Neil’s jeans. His breath stutters as he presses his forehead into Neil’s stomach, trying to collect his thoughts before he fucks this all up.

“Neil,” He starts, letting himself look up at the other, “Can I take these off?” 

“Yes.” Neil says. There is no hesitation behind his words, he arches himself off the bed silently, a soft smile playing across his lips. 

Andrew can’t help himself when he kisses it off of him. 

His hands undo Neil’s belt and button, he knows he’s fumbling and any other time he would have been mortified from the show of nerves but Neil’s soft giggles against his lips make it worth it. 

Andrew manages to get Neil’s pants off and thrown to the ground, leaving him spread out on the mattress with nothing but his boxers on. It’s enough to send his body into overdrive, his mind spinning and he keeps waiting for something to happen, something to ruin this or take it away.

But when Andrew finally leans down over Neil, hovers his hand at the waistband of his underwear and is met with a nod, he slips his hand into Neil’s boxers and touches him for the first time - it’s just them, in a quiet room with a setting sun casting shadows onto the bed.

Neil gasps, his hands flying to grasp onto Andrew’s arms, “ _Oh.”_

Andrew kisses his ear, he thinks he laughs at the reaction. It’s enough to set the fire in his gut even brighter as Neil tips his head back and lets his eyes flutter close. 

He tries his best to make Neil squirm, to make him gasp out, to make him feel good, but it isn’t hard.

“No one has ever touched you like this before.” He notes, speaking lowly and a shiver dances through Neil. His mouth is ajar, blue eyes are nearly swallowed by his pupils. 

“No, no one, never. Only you.”

Andrew doesn’t want to think too deeply about why that makes his stomach flip. Watching Neil shift as he motions to Andrew, “Can I touch you too?” He asks, both hands moving to press against his chest. 

Andrew pauses for a moment, checking for any demons lingering in the shadows of his mind, checking to make sure his skin isn’t crawling from the touch of Neil. He only comes back with the same never ending need to be closer to the latter.

He nods, before mumbling a ‘Yes,’ when Neil makes no move to touch him until then. 

Removing his hand, they both fumble to rid Andrew of his pants, before Neil is hooking his fingers in his briefs and pulling them down as well. Andrew, in revenge, wraps his hands around his ankles and tugs him down, pulling off Neil’s boxers and letting himself indulge in the squeak that slips past Neil’s lips. 

“Wow, someone doesn’t want to be nakey alone.” Neil laughs, poking Andrew in the chest with his foot, “Or are you just that desperate for me?” He bats his eyelashes at Andrew, who huffs, feeling a matching smile tug at his lips. He knows Neil is mocking him but it isn’t far from the truth, if anything it doesn’t describe _enough_ of how Andrew burns for him. 

Instead of responding, he leans down and begins kissing up Neil’s thighs. There are scars here too and Andrew is making damn sure he kisses every one. 

A breathless laugh leaves Neil, and he squirms under Andrew’s touch.

“Quit it.” Andrew grumbles and Neil’s laugh grows more pitched. 

“I- it - it tickles you asshole!” Another cackle leaves him, “Fuck sorry, I can’t.” 

Instead of stopping, Andrew continues his attack - trying to wring every laugh and giggle from Neil, who eventually reaches down and grasps at his shoulder to pull him back up, cupping his face like he’s something precious and kisses him.

Andrew has to bite his lip when him and Neil press against each other, both of them tugging the other closer. 

“ _Andrew_.” Neil says against his lips and Andrew silences it again. 

His hands move down to Neil’s hips, that arch into his touch and Andrew smiles, “Turn over for me.” 

Neil pulls away, blinking a few times before his face darkens into a deep red, “Uh, yes, okay, uh- just give me a sec.” He wiggles himself out of Andrew’s grasp and flops onto his stomach peering over his shoulder at the other and is instantly dropping his head back into the mattress when Andrew presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

Andrew meant it when he said he planned to kiss every mark left on his partner’s body. 

It’s when he reaches the mark he left himself that he pauses, making sure to take extra care of outlining the scar and presses firm kisses to it in an apology. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers against his skin and feels Neil shift to look at him, peering over his shoulder and curling an arm around Andrew’s head. “I should have been keeping you safe, I won’t let this happen again.” 

A sad look crosses Neil, one that keeps the lingering hopelessness in his gut come to light - makes the burning desperation almost painful. Neil’s finger instead gently caresses Andrew’s face, “Come here,” he whispers, tugging lightly.

He follows, like a starved man, letting Neil encircle his arms around him. 

“I was too late too.” Neil says softly, a finger drawing across the freshly closed wound on Andrew’s side. “But, we still made it. So don’t. Not tonight. No regrets.” 

Andrew studies him, watching each rise of his chest, every blink, every twitch of his mouth. And he wants, wants, wants, _wants._

“Okay.” He agrees, “No regrets.” 

They kiss, and they kiss and they kiss. Andrew tries to memorize every part of Neil, once grateful for his memory, knowing that he will have this image - this moment, forever in his mind. 

“Neil,” He grits out once Neil has found a way into his lap; the tension between them growing so heavy Andrew feels like he might suffocate, “Neil, tell me what you want.” 

Neil pauses, pressing their foreheads together, “You, Andrew, I want you. I already told you.”

“No I mean-”

He’s cut off when Neil rolls his hips, a gasp slipping past both of their lips. 

“I’m telling you, I _want_ you. If you want that too.” Neil continues, pressing himself closer and kissing up his neck, “Yes or no?”

Andrew tilts his head back, his own eyes sliding shut as he holds Neil to himself, “Yes. _Fuck_ , yes Neil.” 

But before they can go crashing back into the sheets Andrew freezes, “Wait, Neil. I- we don’t have anything. Like, stuff to um-” 

Neil giggles, cupping Andrew’s face and brushes their noses together, “Give me a second,” He grins, before slipping out of Andrew’s lap and trotting to the joined bathroom. Andrew frowns, he can’t imagine Neil having lube and condoms stored in his own house, much less a safehouse he has never used. But he can hear him moving around, the slamming of the cupboard door, before Neil comes back out. 

Besides the shit eating grin on his face, he is also clutching a box of condoms and lube in his hands.

“How?” Andrew starts, blinking in confusion as Neil tosses them on the bed and clambering back into Andrew’s lap. 

“Allison is good for some things,” He murmurs as he returns to kissing Andrew’s neck, “She used to bring most of her hookups here.”

Andrew decides he isn’t going to think too deeply into that and instead chooses to flip him and Neil over. He reaches for the lube and fiddles with the bottle before he snaps it open and coats his fingers.

He glances at Neil, biting his lip before asking, “You know what we’re doing right?”

Neil stares at him for a moment, his smile faltering before his eyes narrow. “Yes, Andrew, I’m aware of what anal sex is.” 

“Hey junkie, I was just making sure. You’re the jackass who lets every innuendo go over your head.”

Neil shakes his head, but the soft grin returns as he lays back and spreads his legs more for Andrew to slot himself between them. 

“Well get on with it then, Minyard.” 

And Andrew does ‘get on with it,’ gently starting to prep Neil with hesitant hands and a watchful eye. Neil’s eyes widen slightly at first, before his brows furrow. 

“Okay?” He asks and Neil nods, biting his lip.

“Yeah, just different. That’s all.” 

Though with each passing moment, Neil begins sinking into the feeling more as Andrew adds another finger and starts kissing down his chest or sucking on his collar bone. Listening to every noise Neil makes, watching every twitch of his body. 

The sun is almost completely set when Neil is grasping onto Andrew’s arm, “I’m good, fuck Andrew c’mon, I want you.” He says, and Andrew is only a mere twenty three year old man, so he pulls his body to cover Neil’s own. With shaking hands he tries to open the condom, feeling painstakingly similar to a teenager on prom night, when he can’t seem to get it right, fingers fumbling over the wrapper. But before he can panic; Neil’s hands cover his own, taking it away. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were nervous.” Neil teases with a sly grin on his face, successfully opening the packet on his first attempt and scooting closer to Andrew, “Need help with putting it on too?” 

Andrew glares at him, “I haven’t done this before either.” He admits, not expecting Neil’s eyes to widen slightly before another shit eating grin splits across his face. 

“Are you telling me that I get the honour of taking your virginity?” He says, placing a hand on his chest. “But I haven’t even taken you on a date yet.”

“Well, you did invite me to a shady part of the woods every week for a few months, I’ll consider those your courtship.” 

Neil snickers, before he glances up at Andrew, his expression returning to serious, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth as he chews on it in a show of his own nerves, “Is it still a yes?” He asks, “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, being with you like this is enough.” 

Andrew answers him with a forceful kiss, “It’s a yes idiot, I want this too.” He murmurs against the other’s lips, and feels Neil relax, before he’s moving to touch Andrew for the first time. Placing the condom on while both of them are still. Neil, probably concentrating, and Andrew trying to stop himself from making any noises.

Nimble fingers curl around his shoulders, Neil falling back onto the pillow, letting his auburn hair frame his head like a blood stained halo. Andrew follows him down, their bodies wrapping around each other, Neil’s arms hooking around his neck as he kisses him for all he’s worth.

“Andrew, come on.” Neil murmurs against his lips, hooking his legs around Andrew’s hips, “Together.”

So Andrew does, he’s pressing into Neil, his breath hitching against the other as Neil’s eyes flutter closed, lips parting. With shaking arms, Andrew leans down on his elbows and rests his forearms around Neil’s face. It gives him the allusion that he’s safe, that right now, in this room with just them, no one can touch Neil but him, no one can hurt him. No can put another fucking mark on his body. It’s just them, as close as two people could possibly be.

“ _Shit_ , fuck, oh shit.” Nails dig into Andrew’s back, and Andrew sags his head into Neil’s neck. Overwhelmed by the feeling. “God Andrew, it’s you, it’s only ever going to be you.” Neil gasps, and Andrew kisses him to silence him.

It’s slow, because that’s the only way Andrew can think to be with Neil, rocking his hips into Neil’s as he holds onto his body. Kisses every place his mouth lands and listens to the sweet noises that come out of his partner, whose arms only wind tighter around him. One hand used to guide Andrew’s lips back to Neil’s as they gasped into each other's mouths. Sharing their breath as they let the world melt away, to only them. Two broken men whose jagged pieces somehow fit together.

It’s gentle, because that’s the only way Andrew wants to be with Neil. Because no one had bothered to be gentle with Neil before. No one bothered to caress his sides, his face, or press a kiss to his forehead. No one bothered to tell him how his eyes are bright enough to light a room, or how his smile is worth dying for. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Andrew whispers into his ear when he can’t take the sight of Neil under him anymore, his heart too heavy in his chest. Neil groans, tightening his arms around him at the words. “You’re so good, so good.” 

Neil sighs, and Andrew thinks it’s the first time Neil’s ever believed those words.

It’s desperate because that’s all they are. Teeth clacking together when the kissing becomes too rushed or their limbs meet off beat but it doesn’t matter because Neil will laugh into his neck or against his lips and Andrew will try again. It’s desperate because this is all he’s wanted, all he’s needed, a piece of a puzzle that Andrew never knew he was missing until he had it. It’s desperate because neither of them know if they will ever have it again. 

They are reaching the point of no return now, it’s clumsy, they can’t kiss anymore, instead choosing to keep their foreheads pressed together. Desperation is the only thing Andrew knows, he waits for Neil to disappear out of his arms any moment now.

“Stay,” Andrew is gasping out, his hand brushing away Neil’s sweaty brow. “Don’t leave without me, _stay_ Neil, stay with me.”

Neil’s eyes are mirroring the same feeling, both hands holding onto Andrew’s face as tears stay unshed in his eyes. 

“I will,” He whispers, “I’ll come back for you, I promise Andrew. I’ll always come back to you.” 

That’s all it takes for Andrew to tip over the edge and for Neil to fall with him. 

He feels Neil’s hands on his face and his heart beat against his chest. Noises Andrew never thought he’d make, leave him and are quickly smothered by Neil’s lips as they rock together in the dark room on white sheets. Neil’s breath is airy and shuttered, his body holding Andrew as close as possible, Andrew sneaks his hands around his back and pulls Neil flush to him in return.

“I got you,” Neil whispers, “I got you.”

Falling, Andrew decides, isn’t as scary when they do it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end scene is something I spent a long time on and is another scene I had first wanted to do for this novel. I don't usually write nsfw because I've always been terrified too but I wanted a way to express the intimacy between these two characters who I love dearly. Andrew and Neil have expressed themselves through their bodies for a large portion of canon and I hope I could properly show that here. 
> 
> also I am sorry again for the wait and not being able to respond to comments quickly, it was the first year anniversary of my brother's death and I struggle with cptsd so it was horrible the past few weeks so writing wasn't been easy for me either. Cops happen to be a massive trigger because of what happened to my brother so it's difficult for me to write from the pov of one aha, I'm not the brightest. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, see you soon for the final chapter.
> 
> (comments are very much appreciated! love you all so much)


	14. Seven Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel Wesninski's has ran out of time and his masks to use.
> 
> Andrew Minyard doesn't believe in a thing called fate, but he believes in the promised cruelty of the world. 
> 
> This time, however, neither of of them are willing to give up without a fight; 
> 
> and without each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw; every content warning from previous chapters are applied here. 
> 
> here it is. please read final note. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> chapter title song; "seven devils" by florence and the machine.

Gods and monsters. 

This is the game Nathaniel has been playing since he was born.

Gods make the rules, Gods decide if you get to wake up tomorrow and if you get to see the way the sun peaks over the mountains in the morning. Gods pick if your bones will move like the others or if your skin will look closer to the cutting board in the kitchen than walls that hold your body. 

Gods are what you fear, gods are what make you cower behind your mother’s back. Only to let her take the bullets that were always meant for you. 

Monsters are what gods create. 

Monsters are what's left of those who are played with by gods. With skin so worn it has cracks lining the seams and bloodshot eyes from never trusting to close them. They are torn and jagged, with claws that cut blindly to try and escape the gods that loom over their shoulders. 

So the others call them monsters, little do they know they are running from worse. 

Nathaniel Wesninski never wanted to become a monster.

But he was one.

Bred and born from gods themselves, crafted by the finest hands and ripped apart by sharper ones. He was the red eyed, blood stained beast you feared when you were ten. 

He had no choice, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

But he was selfish, it didn’t matter how many lives he tried to save in the process. He took just as many and he knew the blood on his hands had tainted his world in misery. 

He remembers his mother’s hand wrapping around his own and showing him the quickest way to end someone’s life. 

“In case we have no other choice.” She whispers in the dark of his room, pushing the tip of the blade into the teddy bear he had cuddled every night. “Sometimes mercy is the only humanity we can have.” 

“Pain is what makes men like your father tick.” Is what she tells him when she bandages the new knife wound on his stomach, the stitches catch on the material and Nathaniel doesn’t want to be here anymore. “You will not be like them.”

“I will not be like them.” He promises, even as his mother pulls the bandage tighter, too tight, tight enough for his face to screw into pain and his least favourite mask of his mother to slip onto her face. 

He wondered if she knew that she looked like them too sometimes. 

He remembers his father pressing the tip of a knife to his back as his mother lays bleeding out before him and she meets his eyes under the yellow light of the cellar. 

“Mercy,” she begs in her gasping breaths. ‘ _Revenge,’_ her eyes scream and Nathaniel makes sure the next cut his father tells him to make is the one his mother had taught him so many nights ago. 

Nathaniel plans to make the next cut, the one that finishes his mother’s request. 

He showed her mercy, now he’ll give her revenge. 

-

Nathaniel leaves that night. 

He manages, just barely, to shift away from the warm embrace of Andrew. For once in his life he slept feeling protected, feeling like there was something warm, something more for him. But he wakes before the burner phone in his pocket even buzzes. Lets himself indulge in the warm breaths fanning the back of his neck, the hand intertwined with his, the atmosphere of safety and belonging keeps him under the covers for longer.

But now he slips from under Andrew’s arm, the other grumbles lightly, hazel eyes peer from under hooded lids and Neil smiles at him.

With one hand moving to cup Andrew’s face, he leans down to whisper, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be right back.” 

Neil timed this part, so Andrew would be at his sleepest, he hates it because it makes Andrew easier to manipulate into letting him go without noticing. 

Before he can stop himself he leans down more, so Andrew understands what he’s doing, Neil waits for permission but Andrew is already moving to catch Neil’s lips on his own. It’s a goodbye that Andrew doesn’t know, so Neil can’t hold onto him for any longer than normal. But he savours it - something so new, he fears he will already lose it. 

“Have a good sleep.” Neil murmurs as Andrew grunts and rolls to his other side when Neil finally turns to leave the bed. He moves with practiced ease out of the room, fingers lingering at the doorway so he can turn and peer at the head of golden locks poking out of the covers. 

“I’ll come back,” He promises, “I’m coming back.” 

Neil needs too, he promised Andrew earlier and he’s promising him now. He’ll come back. 

_He promised._

Neil hates how he’s always been a liar.

* * *

Andrew isn’t surprised when he wakes to an empty bed. 

There had been something in the way Neil had stared up at him after everything, the way he had held Andrew’s face in his palms and pressed kisses to his forehead, brushing blond locks of hair out of his eyes. 

The way he had still kept his legs locked around Andrew’s hips and his face buried in his neck, the shuddering breaths slipping past his lips as he clung to Andrew. Though Andrew knew he hadn’t been any better, he had held onto Neil desperately because he feared the moment he let go that this would all be gone. That Neil would fade away and the demons would return. 

But that didn’t happen, not yet. 

Finally Neil had dropped his legs and Andrew had pushed himself up onto his hands, they separated and Neil had giggled at Andrew cleaning him up with his discarded black t-shirt. They had kissed, and kissed, and kissed. They had ignored Allison coming into the house, even if they could hear her stop walking by Neil’s door, probably confused - or maybe not, according to Neil’s whispers to him - as to why Andrew wasn’t on the couch. 

Andrew didn’t care at the time, instead he laid there and dragged his fingers across Neil’s cheeks, framed his eyebrows, and trailed down his nose. Neil scrunched in response and grinned at the eyeroll he got from Andrew before he kissed him again. 

He had pulled Neil as close as he could when they fell asleep together, maybe so he could fool himself into thinking that Neil would still be there in the morning. 

But he isn’t - and he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised.

That doesn’t stop the pain though, the deep ache and bone splitting terror that splits through his body when he opens his eyes for the first time the next morning. He stretches out a shaking hand and lays it flat on the sheets that have now gone cold, his mind conjuring up one last fleeting kiss before he had let Neil slip away. 

His mind is hazy, but he knows. He should’ve fucking known. 

Allison is already waiting for him when Andrew pushes open the bedroom door. She sits at the kitchen table with her fingers interlaced, she’s staring at a white piece of paper that has been left there and he thinks she might be crying.

“Andrew.” She greets when she spots him, her face is sullen and her eyes are underlined with shadows. 

“He’s really gone.” Is the only thing that Andrew can manage to say, it’s more to himself than anything but Allison hears it nonetheless. She stretches out a finger and taps on the paper before her, instead of answering.

Andrew grabs it, staring down at the messy writing that used to drive Andrew insane when Neil had first become his partner - now it feels like someone is trying to carve out his heart with a dull knife. 

_The games over. No more masks, no more Gods and monsters._

_Only us._

_-Nathaniel, Abram, Neil._

“What the fuck does this mean?” Andrew manages to grit out, trying to hold himself back from crumpling the note into a ball and hurtling it to the floor. “Why didn’t I fucking wake up?”

“If Nate didn’t want you to wake up, you wouldn’t have woken up Andrew.” Allison snaps back quickly, firm determination in her gaze. Andrew thinks she’s trying to comfort him even if her best friend is gone, “This isn’t on you.”

Andrew tries not to lash out at that, tries to unclench his fists and let the air enter his lung properly but he’s drowning. Because he fears that if he really doesn’t do something to find Neil, that that’ll be it. 

No more Neil Josten, no more Nathaniel Wesninski.

“What do we do?”

Allison doesn’t meet his eyes, but he sees the answer in the drop of her shoulders, 

“Nothing.” 

Andrew feels his temper flare, but he clamps a hand around his bicep to hold himself back. He knows Neil well enough to understand he’s going after his father alone and that only leaves so many places to check. 

“Alright, I don’t have time for cowards anyways.” He grits, trying to keep the venom out of his voice and the apathy thick, but judging by the flash of surprise crossing Allison’s face, he knows he’s failed. 

“Andrew, wait.” She starts, one hand moving but stopping at the last moment, he raises an eyebrow at her in question but she just shakes her head more firmly.

That’s when he notices it, her eyes, shifting around the room and darting to the door. At first Andrew thinks nothing of it but when it pointedly happens again he begins to feel uneasy himself, his hands drifting down to his gun still stashed in his waistband. Allison's weird behaviour since he had left the room starting to raise more red flags.

Allison’s eyes drift back up to meet Andrew’s before they dart quickly to the door and that’s when it clicks. 

_They weren’t alone._

He meets Allison’s gaze, watches as she mouths the word ‘ _now_ ’ and he pulls the gun from his waistband. 

That’s when the door explodes open. 

Allison is on the floor in seconds and Andrew drops behind the counter, snapping the safety off his gun. The first knife embeds into the wall across from him, answering the question flying through his mind, _Butcher’s men_.

Guess Neil didn’t get all of them.

He can only make out one more set of feet on the tiled floor, he shifts himself over so he can see the flash of blonde hair of Allison. He can’t see red, and hopes she wasn’t hit but he isn’t sure how much time they both have now. 

“Ally, I never expected you to run.” A gravelly voice breaks in, “You were always my best fuck.”

“Oh shove it up your ass Jude, you lasted thirty seconds on a good day.” Comes Allison’s biting remark and Andrew watches the intruders eyes instantly lock into the location the voice came and it’s the few moments of distraction Andrew needs to leap to his feet from the counter and line up the shot.

Thirty second man’s body drops, thudding not far from Allison who is already up and moving for the door. Her brows furrowed in anger as she marches over, grabs her purse and turns to look Andrew in the eye and with a haunting smile, says: 

“Get in the car, I’m turning Nate in to the fucking police.” 

* * *

He’s nine when he first defies his father.

The white dog is trembling in his arms, coat matted with blood and grim. The rain pours from the sky as he tries to weave and dodge away from the view of his house just behind him, he has maybe ten minutes before his father will send someone looking for him. 

The forest isn’t far, the trees a looming cover from the prying eyes of others. A safe excuse for any noises that might escape Wesninski's estate, blame it on the woods, the animals, the trees. 

Why anyone buys those excuses is beyond Nathaniel. But he is a child, and maybe all families are like this. 

He hopes not. 

The puppy whimpers and Nathaniel almost does the same, he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to explain this. How to get away from his father’s wrath, but the knife he had left in his bedroom covered in his own blood should keep his father’s interest for now. 

He reaches the edge of the tree line, he knows there is a road not far from here, one that leads to a suburb. A family that will love it, a family who will get to cuddle the furry white coat at night like Nathaniel got too. He tries not to let the jealousy, the bone deep want, to keep him from running to those homes too. Because then his father will find them both for sure. 

He’s running out of time.

He sprints for the rest of the run, everyone tells him he’s fast, says he’s gifted. Nathaniel wants to tell them that he’s been given no choice. 

The clearing that leads to the road comes quickly and Nathaniel doesn’t waste time, pulls himself to a stop and allows himself a few moments to bring the dog closer and bury his face in the fur. The puppy whimpers again, maybe concerned from the blood staining the front of his shirt. 

“Stay safe.” He tells the pup, because he didn’t cut his stomach for fun. At least now his father might believe his lie. 

He sees yellow lights blink across the cloudy street, breaking the fog and Nathaniel waits, flicking on the flashlight he had dangling across his wrist and tries not to grin when the car begins to slow. The fog isn’t as dense here, so he places the puppy on the ground. Brushes away a stray tear before turning and running back into the underbrush. 

He’s done all he could, now it’s up to fate to decide if the dog will find a good home and have a different chance. 

He almost thinks he’s going to make it through the forest and back home until he feels a hand grasp onto his shoulder. On instinct he moves to lash out but another hand blocks it, grasping his wrist and hauling him close. 

“Abram,” A familiar voice whispers, “That’s my boy, Abram, the one who saves.” His mother’s voice is glowing, even as her son thrashing against her for a few biting moments. 

“Mom?” He whispers, unsure if he was in trouble or not, “Mom, what are you doing?” 

His mother pulls his head away for a moment, to stare into his father’s bred eyes, “I was making sure you were going to do the right thing.” She says, a small smile pulls at her lips, “I knew you weren’t going to be like him.” 

Nathaniel opens his mouth to ask what she means, but hesitates. His eyes glancing back towards the house and questions of why she would follow him and hide, instead of just helping him come to mind. But his mother’s smile is enough to ease the fear clambering up his heart and he nods. 

She pets his auburn hair, “Abram,” She repeats, “The one who saves.” 

The first mask is the warmest one he was given. 

**_-_ **

Allison Renyolds is a machine when angry. Freshly manicured nails spinning the wheel to her pink Porsche and skidding through a curve, her eyes fuming as she speeds towards the precinct. 

Andrew wants to say something, probably should, but instead he leans back on the passenger seat and casts his gaze out the window. Each minute is another minute too long, another minute closer to losing him for good. 

“Don’t be angry at him.” 

Andrew jolts, head snapping back towards Allison who hasn’t even glanced in his direction. 

“What?” He asks and Allison bites her lip, readjusting her sunglasses. 

“Don’t hold this against him if we get him back. Nate only cares about protecting those he loves. He’s doing what he thinks is the only option. His death is meaningless to him, I know he thinks that the world would be better without him.” She hesitates for a moment before shaking her head, “Just... if we get him back, don’t be angry. Not now.”

“ _When_ we get him back.” Andrew cuts in, he refuses to give up on Neil already. Allison glances at him now, eyebrows drawn up in surprise before a small smile plays at her lips. 

“I’m glad he’s got you, you know. You’ve changed him a lot.” 

Andrew sighs, “Is this the beginning of a shovel talk?”

Allison laughs, it’s startling with the gloom covering them both. But she flashes him a wicked grin and Andrew starts to understand why Neil has hung onto her for so long. 

“No way.” She says, “But a thank you for the lube would be nice.”

 _Ah_ , nevermind.

-

Andrew has forgotten that he is technically still a missing person. 

He remembers once he’s slamming the door closed to Allison’s Porsche, and he tries to ignore the lingering anxiety that returns. He really can’t afford to waste any time, Neil is out there. Neil is fighting, Neil is slipping away from him and he needs to stop that from happening. 

It turns out, Andrew has nothing to worry about. Allison Renyolds commands the room’s attention when she walks through the door. 

Clicking heels, wind swept hair, skin tight skirt and a brittle glare as she breezes past the lobby. Andrew strides behind her, no one even lays an eye on him as she storms to the door of the precinct and turns an expectant eye on Andrew.

“Key.” She demands.

Andrew presses his keycard to the door, and opens it with a bored look over his shoulder, “You’re welcome.”

It’s then, that the room properly explodes. 

The precinct was already a mess to begin with, Andrew’s team has never really cared for their things but now it’s even worse. Papers strewn across the floor, coffee stains on the ground, a white board that holds nonsensical information and six equally looking exhausted people. 

But when Andrew walks in, everyone is already moving. Dan is reaching to him first, Matt is limping not far behind with Renee helping him along. Seth has even abandoned his spot on the floor to scramble over to him. 

The only two who stay put are Kevin and Wymack. 

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Dan hisses, her hand wrapping around his wrist and Andrew holds himself back from flinching, “We’ve been going mad looking for you.” 

“Did you find him?” Matt cuts in, pushing past his wife and staring Andrew down with desperate eyes, “Did you find Neil?” 

“Does it look like he found Neil?” Seth snaps, “Dude looks like he just got hit by a truck.” 

“Then where have you been? We wasted time looking for you when we could have been focusing it all on finding Neil.” Dan snaps, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “And who is this? Your fucking girlfriend?”

Allison blinks at Dan’s rude gesture and comment, raising an eyebrow before striding past them all. 

“I’m insulted you think _he’s_ my type, but that isn’t why I’m here.” She says, moving over to Kevin and Wymack who still haven’t spoken. “Your heartfelt reunions are for later, now we need to get down to business. Andrew, I presume everyone in here are dirty rats like you?”

“ _Excuse m-”_ Dan starts but Allison cuts her off with a sharp raise of her hand.

“Trust me, it isn’t an insult to not be aligned with police. You are all bottom of the barrel, dirty cops who want to save people from going down the same path as you, correct?”

It appears everyone one of his friends is about to argue so Andrew interrupts them all with a short, “Your point?”

Allison grins, “My point is, I have a new recruit for you.”

Wymack, who has kept his silence, finally stands. His lumbering figure carries exhaustion in his bones as he stares at Allison with a sorrowful look. 

“I am missing one of my men, I don’t have time to play games.”

“And I am missing my boss, I think we can help eachother out.” Allison’s response is lightning quick and something about the hard set of Wymacks jaw makes Andrew’s heart quicken. Something about the way Kevin won’t look up from the ground, the way he knows Kevin couldn’t possibly have kept silent about the truth. 

Wymack has to know.

Andrew wonders if he should be trusting Allison to do this. 

“Your boss?” Matt asks weakly from behind, his body slumped onto a desk. 

“Yes,” She says, turning to the white board and pulling a sheet of paper from the bag she has been carrying. She places it on the board and Andrew doesn’t need to even see it, to know what it is. “I’m Nathaniel Wesninski’s second hand.” 

The photo she’s put on the board is one of Neil without contacts and makeup, his hair is lighter, catching the rays of sun that makes the red stand out. Ice blue eyes stare back at Andrew, and he feels his heart dissolve that much more. 

“But that’s-” Dan starts but she cuts herself off with widening eyes, a hand slowly raising to cover her mouth. 

Matt has propped himself up, for once he isn’t saying anything but his face has gone pale. Wymack’s lack of a reaction is answer enough to Andrew’s earlier theory, instead he just presses his lips together in frustration. Kevin still doesn’t move, shoulders drawn down. 

Renee has made her way over to Andrew, she doesn’t reach out to touch him, but is instead a comforting presence. 

“They’ll understand.” She promises in a low voice but Andrew can’t say he believes her this time. Because now it’s out, now there’s no going back and if a single person in here decides to turn tail and run. Neil will never get to live. 

“I don’t get it.” 

Everyone whirls around to stare at Seth who is standing proudly in the middle of the room. “Why are we putting a photo of Josten on the board? We got plenty of those.” 

“Are you stupid?” Allison snaps, before grabbing another piece of paper that holds Neil Josten’s ID photo and slapping it next to it. Underneath she writes _Neil Josten_ and under the old photo, writes _Nathaniel Wesninski = same person!!!!!!_

She steps back again and Seth’s eyes widen;

“Oh fuck.”

Allison sighs, “You guys really are the worst police force in America.” 

“Wait, no, you’re telling me that Neil is the son of the Butcher?” Matt’s voice is frantic as he stands, “That doesn't make any sense, why was he working with us?” 

“To kill one of you.” Allison replies, ignoring the startle noises of surprise from the others, including Andrew who didn’t think this was the best way to go about explaining who his partner was. 

“Fuck off Neil would never-”

“No! That can’t be-”

“Neil isn’t that type of person-”

Allison clears her throat before continuing, effectively letting any other protests die out, “But lucky for you all, Nate has been working against his dad since he was ten. He also has a heart bigger than his head so he decided to protect this goddamn place instead.” 

“This doesn't make any sense,” Dan is saying, “Neil can’t be the Butcher’s son, it just doesn’t make sense?”

“Doesn’t it?” 

Andrew wasn’t expecting himself to speak, but here he was. “We’ve all seen Neil do stuff that a normal civilian consultant shouldn’t be able to do. We’ve all questioned who he really was. This isn’t as far fetched as you all want to make it seem and right now we don’t have the time to explain all of this because Neil is going to die if we don’t figure out where he is.” 

“He’s been missing for weeks Andrew.” 

Andrew squeezes his eyes closed in frustration, “No,” He says, “I was with him last night. We were trying to formulate a plan to go after his father to end this but he disappeared this morning.” 

“Wait a damn second, you two have been together the entire time?” Wymack cuts in, and Andrew sends a dismissive hand in his direction 

“We don’t have time for the semantics.” He warns, “What I need to know is if you all are willing to help him.” 

The silence is pitiful, Andrew is not a man who shows how he’s feeling. He mastered the art of holding it back, it was his only chance of survival - he’s only defence. But now, and maybe it’s because of Neil, he feels his resolve flinch and creak. He doesn’t know what he can do if they say no. They need numbers, like Allison had told him on the way here, they need people who are willing to fight for Neil. 

“He’s fought for you guys too.” Andrew adds, maybe too quickly. His voice is losing momentum and he feels his fingers begin to tremble so he wraps them into a fist. “Don’t let him die like this.” 

He’s slipping, he’s losing hope and he’s spiraling. Logically he knows that only a few seconds have passed but they feel like years. 

_Not like this, not like this, not like this._

It isn’t the first time he’s thought this.

“Of course we’re gonna help him, kid.” 

Andrew manages to hide his jump when Wymack speaks. The older man crossing his arms and his sleeves pull to reveal his bands of tribal tattoos, his dark eyes flick over to Kevin before sighing. “We were always going to help him, he’s one of us.” 

Finally, Kevin peers up at Andrew. His stark green eyes lined with shadows, lips chapped from picking them, an anxious habit he never knocked back in university. 

“The FBI will be here in three hours.” 

Andrew’s stomach bottoms out, his heart shatters in his chest and he lunges before he has time to think twice. It’s not enough that he can see the bruising of his old fingerprints fading on Kevin’s neck, he’ll really kill him this time. 

“You fucking _coward.”_ Andrew snarls but Wymack is there before he has the chance to make contact. 

“Minyard, you better figure out a way to control this goddamn temper if you want anything to get done.” Wymack grunts, grasping onto Andrew’s shoulders and shoving him back. Andrew is about to make a move for Wymack’s face before Kevin is speaking again.

“I didn’t tell them! Okay? I didn’t tell them shit besides the fact that the Butcher struck again.” Kevin shouts, “I fucked up, I fucked up and now Nate- Neil, is paying the price for me again.” 

A hot breath leaves Andrew in a rush, relief is a sluggish feeling but it doesn’t last for long. He locks eyes with Kevin, shrugging off Wymack’s hands, “Then repay him by getting him back.” 

“That’s the plan.” 

Allison taps the whiteboard, catching everyone's attention. Her lips pursed as she studied Kevin before turning to the board and tapping up a lined piece of paper. 

_Neil’s note._

But first… Andrew glances behind him to eye the rest of the group. Matt is now standing beside Dan, who is already pulling out papers from her desk. Seth is sipping on a coffee idly while watching Allison’s movements intently, Renee has already made her way over to the coffee pot and started brewing a new batch. 

“You guys are helping?” 

Dan looks up from her desk, tucking a stray hand of black hair behind her ear. “Honestly? It’s insulting that you think we wouldn’t Minyard.” 

“Yeah,” Matt joins, “We aren’t losing Neil either. I have to give him shit for not asking for help sooner.” 

Seth tips his coffee in agreement, “I gotta slap the bastard for lying to me about where he learned how to shoot.” 

This time, Andrew lets the shock show on his face. Police or not, he guesses when you come from backgrounds like everyone here - it’s difficult to ignore someone who's your own. 

“This is very illegal.” Wymack reminds them, taking the files from Dan. “You would all be arrested for disrupting, hiding and contaminating evidence.”

Dan gives him a look, “Fuck the police.” She says flatly, Matt repeating in agreement with Seth behind him. 

Wymack grins, “That’s it.” 

Dan, after a joyous smile, joins alongside Allison. Taping up a photo of Nathan and looking at the note Neil had written this morning, she frowns, picking up a pen and circles it. 

“Okay,” She says, turning to face the room. “First things first, Andrew-”

Andrew nods to signal he’s listening before Dan continues, taking the freshly brewed coffee Renee offers him;

“What were you and Neil doing last night?”

Andrew doesn’t have a chance to swallow the first sip before he chokes it back up.

* * *

He’s eleven when he really, truly, kills someone. 

Nathaniel has followed close behind his father, learning how to bend his body with knives as if they are an extension of himself. He learns how to dodge flying blades as Lola throws them at him, his feet and nimble and quick - he has no choice if he wants to avoid stitching himself up again. 

Nathan sometimes watches from the sidelines. Nathaniel can feel his gaze like a brand on his skin, can feel it like the knives that will dig into him later if he fucks this up. He knows Lola’s moves now but he hasn’t quite figured out Romeo’s. The brother is bulker and relies more on brute strength then agility. 

But somehow he manages to avoid the blades and land a swipe of his own. Sending his counterpart and a swearing furry of a man, blindly reaching for Nathaniel who avoids him with ease. 

Anger makes people sloppy. It’s why he shut that part of himself down. He can’t afford to be sloppy in front of his father - he has a promise to keep. 

So, he side steps Romeo and slams the butt of his knife into his head. His mother taught him where to hit to knock a full grown man out flat. He’s grateful for it now when it sends the hulking man catering to the stone floor with a crack.

Nathaniel feels a smile pull at his lips, the sickly sweet feeling of victory is swarming his veins. He glances up and locks eyes with his father, who is leaned against the training room wall. 

His father wears a matching grin on his own face. 

-

“You’re ready.” His father tells him later that night at dinner. There is no one else in the dining hall except them and the servants that bow out at the simple flick of Nathan’s hand. “I believe we need to see you in an actual life or death situation.”

Nathaniel ignores the echoing feeling of anxiety in his stomach, he isn’t supposed to feel when he is like this. 

Instead he answers with a short, “I’ve killed before.” 

His father makes a humming sound with his throat that makes Nathaniel clutch his knife that much tighter. 

“Not properly no, but tonight you will. I have a meeting with an old friend, I want you to kill his daughter.” 

A sputtering noise leaves Nathaniel, “ _What_? Why would you want me to do that?” 

His father’s glare is sharp and enough to stop Nathaniel in his tracks, any other noise of protests die in his throat. 

“Do not question me.” His father does not stutter as he clamps a crushing grip around his neck, “You will know which one to go after. Do it quickly while I am busy with the father.” 

“Yes, sir.” Nathaniel croaks, head now pressed into the steaming food on his plate. Humiliation is thick as his father keeps him there when the servants come to clear the table. No one bothers to take his plate and Nathaniel does not raise his head even once his father has risen to get ready. 

  
  
  


His father is correct though, when they step into the house that looks closer to a palace, Nathaniel knows immediately who his father wants him to kill. 

Her portraits hang on every wall, most are hand painted pictures that Nathaniel cannot even begin to imagine how much they cost. Long blonde hair, blank brown eyes and a pleasant smile, but Nathaniel can already see behind the mask the moment he lays eyes on her in person. 

Her father meets Nathan with a firm handshake, guards file out of the room with ease and Nathaniel watches them go. 

_Does anyone know what he’s supposed to do?_

“Good to see you again Nathan,” The man’s voice is low, but it isn’t nearly as terrifying as his own father’s. “I assume we are speaking on behalf of our deal?”

His father’s grin is so unlike the one Nathaniel is used too, “Of course Eli. I hope you don’t mind that I brought my son, Nathaniel? I figured he and your daughter could get to know each other, no?” 

Eli laughs, Nathaniel wants to grab his shirt and beg him to not let him go. 

“Of course not! Dear, why don’t you take this young man to play while me and Nathan talk?”

The young blonde girl who sat behind, legs thrown up on a large desk, stands. She smiles sweetly at Nathaniel and his skin crawls as she reaches out a hand and giggles.

“Of course, Daddy! Come on Nathaniel!”

Nathaniel takes her hand and follows her out of the room, the blades strapped to his stomach burn hotter than any iron ever did. 

The girl takes him down a long widening staircase and Nathaniel’s mind begins to race. He can’t kill this girl, he knows he can’t, he has to find a way to get her out of here before his father comes looking for a body. He fears his father will finish the job if Nathaniel fails too. The girl has no idea what monsters have entered her home, has no idea what is going to befall her if she takes him behind closed doors. The guards don’t even look twice as they pass. 

How could an eleven year old boy be a threat? 

The girl finally pulls Nathaniel into a pink room, at first he thinks it’s her bedroom, but then she closes the door. 

Along the walls are knives, long ones, curved ones, sharp ones, dull ones, ridges ones, small ones. 

Nathaniel’s stomach bottoms out. 

He knows rooms like these.

He hears the telltale sound of a knife being racked against metal, the _shink_ makes him flinch as he slowly turns to face the smiling daughter. 

Another mask. 

She uses one finger to twirl her hair around her finger and she beams at Nathaniel, “Daddy says I could play so how about you lay down over there Natey?” 

Nathaniel says nothing and she pouts, “Come onnnn! Make this easy for me! I’m older so I get to tell you what to do!” 

Nathaniel does not move and the smile vanishes from her face, eyes darkening in the way he’d watched his father do countless times.

Nathaniel had just walked into another monster’s den. 

“Fine. They always do make this difficult.” She grumbles before she’s running for him, but Nathaniel is already reaching for the blades at his side. 

Her name was Heather. 

Later that night, his father sat next to him in the car ride home with a grin spreading across his face at the choked cries of Eli. 

“Nathaniel, my little killer.” He runs a hand through Nathaniel’s hair, and Nathaniel hates that for one, faltering moment, he leans into it. “Just like me.” 

Nathaniel takes the second mask that he is offered, but this time his hands come away red.

* * *

Neil Josten stands outside of his childhood home and lets himself be afraid. 

  
  
  


Andrew Minyard runs for his car with a gun slung to his hip and lets himself feel desperate. 

* * *

The twin black daggers carry a fake sense of comfort as Nathaniel grips them in his palm, they glint across the marble flooring - catching the last threads of sunlight as he lets the mansion doors slam close behind him

The hallway is empty, the walls stripped bare from the family portraits that used to adorn it. His father never took down the ones with Mary in them as a reminder and as a trophy. 

“Our first kill together.” Is what he had called it, “It deserves to be commemorated.” 

His feet echo down the house, they travel like ghosts - reminders of who he once was. He continues to walk, he knows his father is in a room here somewhere, it was where he promised to meet Nathaniel. 

Nathaniel is not naive, he knows his father is planning to get the jump on him. Even still, it’s impossible to know where he will strike. 

Nathaniel has few loyal men, but he places them firmly around those he cares about. His father will not get the jump on him that way. 

They won’t touch the precinct, or Allison, or the kids. 

Or Andrew. 

For a few moments, he lets himself conjure up the feeling of Andrew’s hands on him, his lips touching the scar on his cheeks so softly, he lets the fear drop from his body at those memories. 

A small smile pulls at his lips, _memories._

However today ends, Nathaniel knows he won. 

Nathaniel reaches the edge of the stairwell. The long black staircase leads to days that Nathaniel can’t even remember anymore, but his body does, his body carries the proof of what happened down there. His mother bled to death on the metal table he doesn’t need to see to be able to imagine it perfectly, feel it under his palm, taste it. 

He takes the first step. 

He can hear others, quiet breaths, the shuffling of uneasy feet and the muted anxiety that is not just Nathaniel’s own.

What has his father planned now? 

He hits the last step and hesitates for the first time, his fingers outstretched for the doorknob but not able to close the distance. He knows there is more than just his father in that room, he knows that he only wiped out his father’s strongest, not all of his men. 

He remembers his mother bleeding to death, remembers the cries of others, of himself, remembers Mads blotched face because of his father’s own inactions. 

The door swings open with ease, Nathaniel does not snap to attention like he would’ve before. He doesn’t even acknowledge his father at first. 

His eyes land on the others in the room, a mismatched collection of people. He sees the stoney stares of men he barely recognizes, men so low in the empire his father hadn’t even bothered bringing them around. 

There is fear in their eyes, in the way their knuckles white out when holding their knives. 

One woman is shaking so badly her bottom lip is trembling, she holds a pistol to her chest as she stares at Nathaniel like he is the reaper himself. Beside her is a group of ladies and two men that Nathaniel recognizes as the kitchen staff. A stalky boy even stands beside his mother, he doesn’t look older than fourteen. 

There are at least twenty people in the room, all with masks of amatures. 

His father is the worst of them all. 

He stands, hip resting against the metal table that haunts Nathaniel’s nightmares. His body guard stays to the side, his face turned away but his posture stiff. His father is staring openly at Nathaniel, he is trying to conjure up a sinister expression - his maniac evil that he knows Nathaniel feared so as a child but now it is twisted and pained. 

He looks pathetic. 

“You said it would just be us.” Nathaniel says finally, breaking the haunting silence of the room, “You brought guests.” 

Nathan looks surprised for a moment, before falling into his role and smirking, he splays out his hands and gestures to the room. 

“Figured some backup wouldn’t hurt, since you’ve been a very bad boy recently.” 

Bad boy probably doesn’t even begin to cover it, but Nathaniel raises his head in acknowledgment. 

“I’ve found some pretty interesting things out you, my son, apparently you’ve been working to pull the wool over my eyes, hm?” Nathan’s eyes burn as he stands up straight, he moves his arm from behind his back to reveal a cleaver held in his grip. Nathaniel fights the fear that threatens to splurge forward. “Trying to be some ‘ _hero’_ behind my back for longer than just this little incident with the kids. Been going behind my back and fucking up _my_ things.” 

Nathaniel doesn’t respond to that, he doesn’t need too. He was never on his father’s side. 

“Originally, I thought it had to do with that little cop you were running around with, but I guess you really believe you are worth something other than being my son.” 

At the mention of Andrew, Nathaniel stiffens. 

“Like how you’re only worth the strength of your men?” He bites back, and he sees the anger lash across Nathan’s features. The curl of his lip, a warning, Nathaniel remembered watching for it from across the living room. 

Nathan however, still doesn’t look over in Nathaniel’s direction. Instead he makes a lazy gesture to the room.

“Hold him down, for every insult he makes, he loses a finger.” 

The group of wide eyed amatures, flinch at being addressed, eyes locking onto Nathaniel. 

His father grows impatient, “Do it!” 

The first two to stumble forward are the low rank men that Nathaniel barely recognizes. They move with choppy steps, and Nathaniel twirls his daggers in warning.

“Think about this,” He says, making sure to cover his flank as more in the group begin making their way over. “I don’t want to fight any of you.” 

“Hurry up! DiMaccio, motivate him.” 

Nathaniel wips the first dagger in front of himself, making the man reaching for his arms jump back with a yelp. The group already begins falling apart from the movement, fear is a disease curling in their blood.

“You don’t have to do this, he has no power over you anymore.” He grits, “Look around you! You are not killers, he’s in a corner! You can leave.” 

A woman with soft eyes shakes her head, Nathaniel regonzies her instantly as one of the maids that has worked for his father since he was small. Tears slip down her cheeks as she clutches a small throwing knife to her chest, “You’re wrong. We have no choice Nate, he’ll harm our families.”

“No,” Nathaniel says, “He won’t live long enough to touch them.” 

A wet laugh catches his attention, eyes snapping over to where his father stands. “Nathaniel, the only reason you are still alive is because I had given a no kill order.”

Nathaniel doesn’t react, he knows he’s lucky to be alive. 

But so is his father.

On the outskirts of the group, DiMaccio is shoving forward the stragglers. The fear on their faces is plaiant, children, his father has fallen to using children.

Nathaniel clenches his jaw, “Leave. All of you. Run out that door and all of your debts to the Butcher will be repaid. Anything he has on you will be dealt with, I will promise you my own protection,” He readjusts his grip and realizes no one else has made a grab for him, “All I need you to do, is trust me, and run.” 

“Jesus, fuck, you’re just like your mother. Cut the dramatics Nathaniel.” His father barks, but the room still doesn’t move except for DiMaccio. 

“This is not where you die today,” Nathaniel continues, “this is the last chance I can give you.” 

It’s that line that breaks the room. 

At once people begin to rush forward and for a heartstopping second Nathaniel thinks they are charging to attack him. But it only takes him one second to realize he’s blocking the only available exit, he sidesteps the storm as they shoulder past and he hears his father yell, 

“Kill them, shoot them! I don’t care, take out as many as you can!” 

Nathaniel clutches his knives and bolts, shoving a young woman forward and out of the line of fire when he sees DiMaccio’s looming figure pulling up the black pistol. Nathaniel twists the knife in his palm and lets it fly. 

It sinks into DiMaccio’s arm, but not before he manages to pull the trigger. The bullet ricrocites off the ceiling before embedding into the cement floor. DiMaccio curses, the gun clattering to the floor as he cups the wound. Nathaniel uses his body as a shield for the last person who scrambles up the stairs before breaking out into a sprint towards the bodyguard. 

DiMaccio was always the hardest to fight against, his body was not only a massive brick wall to get past but he had learned how to be just as agile as Nathaniel for someone so large. He easily manages to side step Nathaniel’s first attack, he turns to grab Nathaniel’s ankle so instead he flips his knife in the air and brings it down against DiMaccio’s skull. 

The blow wasn’t enough to knock him out but he staggers to the side, giving Nathaniel the recovery time he needs. He readjusts his grip, pulling another knife from his leg - when suddenly he feels something slam into his side. 

With startling clarity, Nathaniel realizes he’s just been stabbed. 

He glances down to the throwing knife, and back up to his father, who has now swung the cleaver around his shoulder. He stalks forward and Nathaniel is reminded why he spends his nights flinching away from even the slightest sound. 

His father looks like the predator, in every sense of the word. His teeth barred, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed, hands can still move a weapon with ease no matter his age. 

Nathaniel places a hand on his side, gritting his teeth and pulls the knife out. He isn’t going to risk jostling it inside himself while fighting, nor give someone a clear shot at him. He feels the blood already beginning to spread but he doesn’t let that phase him when both of the men in the room round over to him. 

“What are you going to do now boy? You keep forgetting your place.” 

Nathaniel darts away from the first swing of the cleaver, hearing it skim the metal walls with a screech as he uses the bloodied knife from his side and pinning DiMaccio with it. 

But DiMaccio is too fast and his bulky body collides with Nathaniel, sending him sprawling across the floor with a choked grunt. He tries to jump to his feet but a right hook blacks out his vision for a moment and DiMaccio’s weight staples him to the floor as the large man pins him to the ground with his knee. 

“What do you wanna do with him boss?” DiMaccio asks, laughing when Nathaniel twitches away from the knife he runs up his arm. “Maybe carve my name here? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Nathaniel manages to snarl, digging his nail into the cement floor and trying to pry himself forward, only to be cut off by a blade being pressed to his cheek. It makes quick movement, slicing deep and across one of the old scars on his face. 

Nathaniel barely feels it. 

“Get him on the table, I want to see his face for each fucking cut I make.” His father spits from above him, his leather boots coming into view before disappearing to make a harsh kick to Nathaniel’s side. Making sure to dig into the bleeding wound. 

Hands dig into his hair and wrench his head up. Nathaniel gasps, memories from his childhood splitting across his vision as his father presses a knife under his throat.

He laughs, “I could just kill you right here.” He promises, “Could slit your throat and everything you’ve fought for, everything you wanted would be for naught.” 

Nathaniel refuses to give into the fear that threatens to take over, refuses to give into his father’s taunts. He feels DiMaccio pull his hands behind his back as they begin to haul Nathaniel to his feet. 

“What about that officer? Your partner? I wonder what he’ll look like with a knife in his throat, or maybe his brother?” He tips Nathaniel’s chin with the blade, “Or Allison? She’s always been an annoying bitch.” 

Rage is his father’s gift to him, rage is the thing that runs through their blood and feeds their inner workings. 

Today, the rage he gifted his son will be his undoing. 

He curls all his strength in his core and throwing his body to the side he knocks DiMaccio off balance for a crucial few moments. The knife his father had poised under his chin digs in for a moment until Nathaniel can kick him in the shins, preparing his body for impact to the ground. 

The moment he hits it though, he lunges forward for the black dagger laying beside his father’s. DiMaccio notices at the same time and follows Nathaniel down, desperation and years of torture is what makes Nathaniel faster. 

He pulls the handle into his grasp and swings around, not bothering to focus his aim as he brings the blade across DiMaccio’s throat. 

Blood sputters free, and Nathaniel barely manages to dodge DiMaccio as he falls like stones onto the ground.

It’s so quick, so silent, that it rattles Nathaniel to the core.

Here, a man who added to the scars on his chest, a man who took joy in the cries that came from a boy no older than ten, a man who still haunts his nightmares to this day was dead with a simple flick of his wrist. 

_They are just men. Not gods._

_They were never gods._

He glances over to see his father, who has gathered himself up, halt for a moment. His face is more flushed then it was before, eyes zeroing in on DiMaccio before he’s locking them onto Nathaniel. 

“Clever with those knives ain’t ya boy? I wonder who taught you that.” 

Nathaniel was not foolish to think that his father is not crafted with the same rage. So he’s prepared when his father picks his cleaver off of the floor and charges him.

Nathaniel dives out of the way with the next strike, he sinks his knife along his father’s leg.

“That’s for Heather.” He grits, _for a girl who was forced to become a monster before me_. 

His father makes a wild noise, like a feral animal as he lunges again. 

Nathaniel barely misses this time, but he manages to catch his father’s shoulder with the next dig. 

“That’s for Jackson.” _My first friend who you never let go home again._

Nathan makes a savage noise, hitting Nathaniel with the blunt end of his blade with the swing back.

“What was that? The fuck you doing boy, yelling these names?” He yells, spitting blood from his mouth as he rounds back on Nathaniel, “You think you're gonna get revenge for all those fuckers? Is that what all this has been about? How fucking pathetic can you get! Guess what Nate, you can’t take back what you did. Every person you killed is still on those hands of yours son.”

 _I know_ , he thinks. Before he evens out his breathing and ducks his chin for his next hit.

For every attack, for every slice he can make in his father’s flesh, he brings another name to the surface. Names of those he failed to help, those who suffered because of him, because of his own inaction, because of his own fear. Because he didn’t do this sooner. 

For every pin he pulled in his father’s empire, every bit he saw crumble. For every cut he says their names, 

_Derek, Imji, Foster, Kazz, Anna, Senya._

The ones he cries out in his sleep. 

_Owen, Shoto, Rin, Cassandra, Deja, Suki._

The faces that haunt him, that will be scarred to his mind like the marks on his body.

There’s too many names for him to say before both he and his father find death. 

But he tries, he tries.

“For Allison.” He grits, _for a girl who was a mouse who thought she was a snake._

“For Robin.” _A girl who will never be able to sleep in an unlocked room again._

With a gasping breath, he manages to make a deep cut along his father’s shoulder but not without taking another hit to his side. He cries out this time, losing his footing for a moment so he stumbles for his gun but he doesn’t have enough time.

“For Andrew,” he chokes out, throwing the last knife he has strapped to his leg. 

_For making it so I can never be the person he needs. For causing him so much pain._

His vision is whitening out, his father is more of a hazy figure than a solid man. But Nathaniel manages to stumble away from the next blow. He’s dragging this out, he knows this is pointless but Nathaniel never thought he’d get the far. 

And Nathaniel was still a monster, watching his father dripping in pain that was caused by him is somewhat therapeutic. 

He also knows he’s going to die soon.

That thought should be scarier then it is. 

He’s bleeding out, his head is a mess, he thinks he might’ve twisted his ankle, but he also knows his father won’t make it far with his own wounds. 

Knife marks across his chest, legs, arms, deliberately shallow enough to keep him alive for the next blow, so he can hear the next name and wonder how many more are coming. 

Nathaniel, bends his knees before he lunges forward, his knife curved, his other hand reaching out to grasp Nathan by the shirt. The new movement gives him a split second hesitation on Nathan’s part, Nathaniel uses it to land the final cut across his father’s face.

“For mom,” He snarls. 

His father howls, he staggers back as his hands fly to his eye. If he were to live, he’d never get his sight back. Blood is dripping through his fingers as the other ice blue eye snaps to Nathaniel. 

“You’re sick.” He says, “You’re enjoying every moment of this aren’t you. Look at you.” 

Nathaniel does not respond, instead he pulls his gun from the waistband of his pants and points it directly at his father’s head. 

A sick, twisted, smile stretches across his father’s lips. He stares down the barrel with ease, as a broken, course, laugh rips through him. 

“LOOK AT YOU!” His father screams, “What? You gonna kill me with mommy’s gun? Gonna avenge her once and for all?” He spits blood and phlegm onto the ground, he sneers, “Do it, you fucking coward, shoot me. Kill me! Blow dear old dad’s brains all over the walls.” 

Nathaniel harshly wipes his hand under his nose to clear the blood, before grasping the gun with his other hand as well to hide the trembling of his fingers. 

_Don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen._

“I did it, Mary never fucking believed I could do it. But just look at you.” His father grins, showing off the bloody teeth underneath.

Nathaniel clenches his jaw, “Did what?” 

_Don’t listen to him! Shoot him!_

“Make a monster,” His father replies, “I made a monster more terrifying than me, no one will forget what empire I created now because of you. You became the very thing she hated, boy, all because you wanted to avenge her, you lost yourself Nathaniel. You lost.” 

The Butcher falls to his knees, and throws his head back in the air and spreads his arms wide in the mirror of a martyr putting down his life, “Do it my boy, do it for _her_.” 

Nathaniel meets his father’s eyes over the edge of the gun he was gifted for his seventeenth birthday, “I’m not doing this for her.” He says, taking in the image of the pathetic man in front of him. Of the monster that made him who he is, of the creature that chewed him up and spit him out, of the things that will never let him sleep at night with the feeling of knives on his skin, at the man who was supposed to be his father and became the devil instead. Of the man who did this. Made this. Nathaniel does not smile now, instead he keeps his gaze blank as he watches he father take the last breath he ever will;

“I’m doing this for me.” 

He pulls the trigger.

* * *

_Too late, too late, too late._

Andrew Minyard's body slams into the mansion’s door, he can hear the ringing of a gunshot in his ears. He hears people shouting behind him but he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t care, Allison’s words come rushing forward. 

_“His childhood home, Gods and Monsters, it was the game we joked about when we were younger, but only there because the mansion was fit for Gods but only held Monsters. It was deep shit from a fourteen year old, but he knows I know this. He wants us to find him Andrew.”_

He flies down an empty hallway, his footsteps sound like gunshots against the wall. His eyes land on a metal door. 

_“The cellar, Nate never talked about it but I know what happened down there. Even now his dad would make him go down there and he never came back the same. If his father wanted to meet him somewhere to fuck with him - it would be there.”_

The door isn’t locked, Andrew isn’t sure what he would’ve done if it was.

He breaks into a room of red and death. The body of the beast lays sprawled on the ground

In the middle of it, on his knees is a boy dressed as a monster. His costume is torn, his fake claws have fallen off, the dye is running out of his hair, and his act is crumbling. He is screaming. 

Andrew crashes to his knees, the boy looks at him, his eyes are windows to a soul of pain and a heart filled with hope. 

He reaches out just as the boy’s eyes grow hazy and Andrew sees the blood pouring out of his side. 

“I’m here,” He chokes, “It’s over.” 

Neil Josten crumples into Andrew’s arms, bloodied fingers grasp up to him but he can’t make it far. 

There are footsteps behind them, Andrew tries to curl his body around Neil. They can’t take him, not now, the cops and the FBI will be downstairs any minute now.

“They won’t take you.” He promises, lips pressed to Neil’s temple as he rocks them. Hands hold onto his bleeding side. 

Kevin is the first one down the steps and his eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look behind him before he scrambles for his radio, the words he speaks are muffled and splitted in Andrew’s ears. Allison is next, the moment she sees Neil she’s rushing forward. She’s yelling something at Kevin, there is light coming into the room and Andrew feels her try to pull Neil from his grasp. 

“Nate, oh my god, Nate.” She sobs, her cool composure she held all day shatters. Andrew lets her engulf them both, “We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

He can hear moving footsteps, but he doesn’t dare look up to see. He senses a silhouette come overtop of them, his skin prickles but he covers Neil with his body, begging to anyone to not let them take Neil away again. 

“-that way… not - Neil…” 

Andrew hears Kevin Day speaking, his voice is authoritative and calming. He’s commanding someone and Andrew should look but he doesn’t. 

Instead it’s Wymack that breaks the haze.

“That’s one of my men down there you fucks! He needs medical attention! His name is Neil Josten and you best back off and listen to your commander.” 

Andrew looks up and they are surrounded by FBI agents, they are staring at Kevin and nodding there heads as they speak into their stupid phones. 

“Potential suspect, took underground garage out. Missing, Civilian Consultant has been recovered but is in critical condition.” The man speaking pauses for a moment, “I think we have the Butcher’s body down here too, sir.” 

Kevin crouches down beside them, his face is sickly pale as he places a firm hand on Andrew’s shoulder and squeezes, “We got him, we got him okay? Let’s get him help now.” 

Andrew wants to fight, wants to tell the paramedics that come swarming onto the scene to fuck off and hide Neil behind a lock door. But he knows logically it doesn’t work like that, so he nods his head, letting Kevin squeeze his shoulder and pull him away.

“Okay.” He whispers, and watches Neil get carried away. The bloody hand rolling off the stretcher like a body instead of his partner. 

* * *

Neil wakes to a colourless room. 

At first, he panics. Usually, in all his experience with being tortured and abused, you don’t wake up in hospital rooms. It’s always some dingy basement or someone else's bed, or if you’re lucky, in someone’s arms. 

But this, being surrounded by incessant beeping, the feelings of wires and eyes on you was something foreign. 

_Shouldn’t I be in jail?_ He thinks weakly, and then jolts when he realizes people who are injured go to the hospital first and _then_ jail. 

In a moment of panic, Neil makes to move his arms to see if there are any surprise handcuffs, but instead is treated to a new stabbing pain and the feeling of smacking someone in the face. 

A low grunt comes from the victim and Neil’s heart monitor picks up remarkable speed. 

_Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, Andrew._

“Good morning to you, too.” Andrew’s low voice says beside him and Neil rolls his head in the direction. He knows he must look awful, and he should be worrying about a million things right now but when he cracks his eyes open and locks them with warm hazel ones, everything in the universe feels right for a single breath. 

“Andrew,” He whispers, his eyes wide, taking in the pale skin, flushed cheeks and messy blond hair. 

“Neil.” Andrew responds deadpan, but there are fingers interlocked with his and Neil doesn’t find a reason to worry. A smile creeps it’s way onto his face as he buries half his face into his pillow. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that you’re my guard and I’m going to jail?” Neil asks, he says it like a joke but both of them know he’s serious. He doesn’t remember much, not after he pulled the trigger, not after he… he-

With a choked breath, Neil is flying forward and Andrew is already helping him into a sitting position. The air comes to him in broken gasps as a bout of panic slams into his body, his mind filling with everything - the memories, his father’s words, the FBI-

“You’re fine, junkie,” Andrew murmurs behind him, keeping a soft hand clasped to the back of his neck, “You’re safe, okay? It’s okay.” 

“Andrew, Andrew I-” 

“You saved yourself and countless others. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

He remembers his father’s face becoming devoid of life, his stomach hasn’t quite figured out how it feels. His mind though, hums in approval at the memory. 

“What happens now?” He asks, it’s a question he was always too afraid to ask himself when he thought about taking out his father. What happens if he lives? Neil always figured he wouldn’t but now, it seems he has no choice, “What do I do now?” 

“ _We_ will figure it out,” Andrew promises, his breath is warm against Neil’s neck so he can feel the heavy sigh the other makes. “Stop thinking so much. Trust me when I tell you things are okay right now.” 

Neil finally turns to glance at Andrew again, who is staring steadily back at him. Finally, the realization that Andrew was sitting next to him, really begins to set in. He had been so used to turning and Andrew being there by his side, he hadn’t questioned it when he woke. But after everything, even when it was over. Andrew was still beside him. 

“You’re still here.” He whispers, the disbelief he feels that Andrew doesn’t hate him. After he promised - after Neil left in the dead of the night with nothing but a kiss and a goodbye.

Somehow, Andrew already has an answer ready, “Of course I am, you fucking idiot. You asked me to come find you, so I did.”

Neil’s eyes widened in realization, “The note. You and Allison figured it out.” 

“Well, Allison did. I did most of the running and yelling.” 

He can’t help it, Neil laughs at the words. He knows that Andrew probably said that on purpose, probably wanted to distract him but that only made Neil smile harder because if the Andrew he had met all those months ago even had a _clue_ to what a softy he had become… 

Neil reaches out his other hand and presses it to Andrew’s face, heart pounding in his chest as he stares at him, remembering thinking that their last night would be their last moment together. That he would never get this again, to touch Andrew, to see Andrew, to feel Andrew - but here he was. The steady force he’s always been. 

A shy smile spreads across his face at the memory of the other night, a blush dancing across his cheeks as his eyes dart away. His mind supplied him with more memories that he wasn’t expecting.

But before Neil can do something stupid, like comment on it, Andrew interrupts him.

“Also, if you’re up to it. You have a visitor.” 

“A visitor?” 

Andrew nods his head, before he gets up from Neil’s bedside and makes his way over to the door. That was when Neil notices the overwhelming amount of flowers on the table not far from him with other cards and ‘get well soon balloons’. 

“How long was I out?” Neil asks nonplussed. 

Andrew pauses before leaving the room to glance back, “A few days.” He calls and then he’s gone. 

_A few days?_ That was a shit ton of things for just one day. Even the precinct wouldn’t have gotten him that much shit. 

_Oh shit, the precinct._ Andrew never told him what happened there, he guessed he was fired? Or was he? Was he Neil Josten still or was he-

“ABRAM!” 

Neil jolted at the screeching voice of a young girl. His head snapped to the doorway as a fury of Mads came barreling towards him.

“Don't jump on him, he’s still hurt!” Andrew shouts from the hallway, jogging around the corner as Mads clambers onto the Neil’s bed. Her massive brown eyes staring up at him, with her bottom lip in a pout. He noticed that her curly black hair had been done into braids and she wore what appeared to be new clothing that didn’t hang off her small frame. Even her dark cheeks looked more plump and rosy, the relief he felt almost made his head spin. 

“Hey Mads,” He said softly and the younger girl’s frown grew bigger. She sat back on her hunches and glared at him. 

“Do not ‘hey’ me, right now.” She said, “You went and got hurt again. After you disappeared! You made me and Andrew scared.” She points her finger behind her, and Neil tries to keep the smile threatening to break across his face down. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get hurt but Andrew’s taking care of me now, right?” He asks, looking in Andrew’s direction and when he receives a scathing glare in response his grin finally does break out. 

Andrew sighs, “Yes, I am taking care of him,” he grumbles, making his way over to the bed and placing a hand on top of Neil’s head. 

Mads, who was staring intently at Neil, now shifts. Before finally she smiles a little bit, and then as an ultimate turn of events, she starts crying. 

The tears just start falling, before she’s full out wailing into Neil’s shoulder. Her hands fisting his clothes into their grip as she clings to him, sniffling loudly as Neil reaches out and wraps his other arm around her. 

“I was so worried!” She repeats, “I thought you were really gone for good.” 

“I’m okay, Mads, I promise.” He tries to tell her, bewildered and unsure of how to comfort her. He could calm down crying kids, but never if he was the reason they were crying. “I’m so sorry I scared you, I just had to make sure you were safe, okay? Before I came back.” 

Mads sniffs loudly and Neil is sure he’ll have a massive wet patch in on his hospital gown afterwards but he can’t say he cares. 

When Mads pulls off, her face is blotchy and her eyes bloodshot but she has a little smile on her face that makes both he and Andrew sigh in relief. 

“You okay?” He asks, and Mads nods. 

“As long as you are.” 

Neil grins at her and gives her the thumbs up, “I am more than good, kiddo. Look at my nurse!” He jabs his finger over his shoulder and lets Andrew swat it away as Mads giggles. 

“I’m glad you guys aren’t fighting anymore. My two favorite people finally like each other!” She jumps in her spot, her eyes growing as wide as saucers, “Oh! You need to meet Bee, she is so so, so nice! So all three of you can be friends.” 

“I mean I wouldn’t go as far to say I’m friends with him…” Andrew says under his breath, probably meaning for just Neil to hear but like any kid, Mads snatches on instantly, 

“Well duh,” She rolls her eyes as if it was obvious, “You guys are married.” 

_-_

Later during the day, Andrew finally climbs into the hospital bed after Neil’s insistent pestering. With Neil’s beaming face staring at Andrew, who sits with his legs crossed on the chair beside him, carding through a novel and ignoring the pokes of the other. But finally, after Neil scoots over to the edge of his bed and begins to pat it eagerly, Andrew breaks. With a sigh, to remind Neil that he is infact a pain in the ass, Andrew gets up and curls beside Neil. 

The sheets are still warm when he slides in, Neil can’t help but pull the covers up and snug around Andrew as he wiggles over before pausing. 

Neil isn’t sure how to go about anything, he realizes with startling clarity. He doesn’t know where he and Andrew stand but his thoughts are quickly muted when Andrew opens his arms, raising one eyebrow. 

“Oh! Yeah, haha, yeah just-” Neil shimmes forward and wraps his arms around Andrew’s waist, his body instantly singing at the contact. He even ignores Andrew’s scoff at how flustered he gets, until Andrew mumbles something under his breath. 

Neil looks up at him, “What was that?”

Andrew purses his lips, “I said that we’ve been closer than this before.”

At the reminder, Neil feels the blush return full force but it only worsens when Andrew also has a matching flush to his cheeks. He presses his face into Andrew’s chest, at first to cover his it but then he realizes just how much he missed being this close to Andrew. He feels fingers start crading through his hair slowly and Neil nearly swoons at the feeling, letting his eyes begin to lull close. 

“Remember last time we were here?” He asks and Andrew grunts in response, “It was you in here, not me. I really thought you were going to kiss me.”

Andrew snorts, “I thought I was going to too,” he admits. 

“You should.” 

“Should what?”

“Kiss me,” Neil says, turning his head upwards again, “I mean, If you want too.” 

Apparently, Andrew had also been thinking about kissing Neil because he barely finishes speaking before Andrew is surging down and kissing Neil like he was the only thing in the world. Lips desperate against his own, teeth clanking for a moment before Andrew angles his chin so they can kiss deeper. 

God, Neil could get used to this. 

He’s just about to try and push himself up and onto Andrew’s lap when a nurse walks into the room. Neil, as eloquently as he can, collapses onto the bed in a suspicious appearing position with his arm thrown over Andrew’s face. The nurse, to her credit, pauses for only a moment before powering on and flashing a polite smile. 

“Mr. Josten! How are you feeling today.” 

Neil clears his throat, readjusting himself and ignoring the smirk that Andrew is currently trying to hide. 

“I’m okay, feeling pretty gross but that’s probably cause I haven’t showered.” He says it because he feels like he needs a conversation going to dispate the awkward energy in the room but the nurse's eyes widen. 

“Oh! Actually, if you’d like we can get some covers for your bandages and you’re free to shower.” She frowns for a moment, staring down at her clipboard as she moves around the room and checks the machines surrounding Neil. “Or actually! We can do a cloth bath if you want your hair washed. It’ll be more comfortable.” She motions towards the white bandages around Neil’s arms with her pen, but before he can respond, the nurse glances up at Andrew and purses her lips, suddenly pointing her pen at him instead. “Or your partner can help you, it’s up to you. I’ll return with a new gown and some wraps, one moment please.” 

She trots out of the room without another word and Andrew makes a noise of amusement beside him, before sliding out from under Neil. 

“Do you want a shower?” He asks, and Neil is nodding, because fuck, what he wouldn’t do to have a shower right now. So Andrew accepts this without comment and helps the nurse wrap his bandages when she returns and listens to her instructions. 

Andrew picks up the extra hospital gown and helps Neil to his feet. Finally, they start making their way to the bathroom but get interrupted when the nurse shouts a quick, “And no funny business in there!” 

“Funny business?” Neil questions as Andrew closes the door behind them, and makes his way to turn on the shower. “What can we possibly do in a shower?” 

Andrew turns to him with a raised eyebrow, “Sometimes I don’t know if you're being oblivious on purpose to fuck with me or not.” 

A sly smile spreads across Neil’s lips in response as Andrew grunts and gets to his feet to help Neil take off his clothes. Hesitant hands hover over his shoulders, before Neil reaches up to push Andrew’s hands down to the ties himself. 

“It’s always a yes with you, Andrew, you don’t have to be so afraid to touch me.” Neil says softly, shivering when Andrew’s fingers brush along his skin. 

“Don’t always me.” Andrew grumbles, pulling the last tie and the hospital gown falls to the ground. Andrew’s fingers skim the band of Neil’s boxers and a shaky exhale slips from Neil’s lips, the new heat in his body is very different from the fear it was from before. 

“Yes, Andrew.” He says instead and let’s Andrew strip him bare. 

He guesses this isn’t the first time he’s been naked in front of Andrew, but before they were lost in a flurry of heat and desperation. This is very different. Andrew’s breath catches when he sees Neil’s body for the first time, eyes staring blankly at his chest and when Neil catches his reflection in the mirror he understands. 

He knew there would be bruises on his body. But, besides the covered bandages on his side, Neil is black and blue. Courtesy of every blow his father managed to land on him and every feeble attempt at escape he made, it all has left a stark mark against his already tattered body. 

More scars, he notes faintly in his mind. He’s going to have more scars.

The nurse had been the one to wrap the wound on his side so Andrew had never gotten the chance to see him yet. But judging by the haunted expression on his face, he doesn’t like what he sees.

Neil swallows, humiliation is thick. He sees just how horrific his body really looks, hates thinking that there’s no way Andrew could possibly find _this_ attractive. 

But it dissipates quickly when Andrew presses a soft kiss onto Neil’s shoulder, taking a moment to bring Neil close to him and bury his face in the other’s neck. He feels Andrew inhale sharply before speaking:

“It’s over now.” It sounds like he’s saying it for his own comfort this time instead of Neil’s, so with hesitant hands, he curls his arms around Andrew’s shoulders as well. 

“It’s over.” Neil reiterates, “We made it.”

Andrew says nothing else, but does pull away from Neil to look him in the eye and swipe his thumb across his cheek. Before he begins to maneuver him towards the steaming shower that Neil ducks under without resistance.

The moment the heat hits his skin, Neil groans, it feels perfect, he already feels slightly better with the water rushing around him.

He hears Andrew shuffling around before the sound of a belt hitting the floor echoes in the room. Neil smiles, waiting until finally, the curtains open again and Andrew slips in beside him. 

Neil turns to face him as Andrew’s hands make their way up to Neil’s head and begin rubbing the water into his hair. Neil studies his fine features in the low light of the bathroom, the moles on his neck, his shoulder and on the corner of his hip. 

“You have a bad habit of staring.” Andrew murmurs, his voice is closer to Neil’s ear than he had expected and goose bumps explode across his arms. Letting Andrew dig his fingers into his hair more, washing away what felt like the rest of Neil’s anxieties. 

“You have a bad habit of making me stare.” He teases in response, leaning back so he can place a kiss on Andrew’s nose, making the other scrunch his face in annoyance.

“Can I touch you? Like your chest?” Neil asks, because they are both naked now and Neil still isn’t sure where they stand but he feels hope bubble in his chest when Andrew pulls Neil closer to him in lull of a response. 

Neil rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder, letting the rhythmic movements of the other lull him into closing his eyes. He gives himself over to Andrew’s hands, that trace his scars and kisses his neck. Humming, he kisses back and Andrew shivers - Neil grins, kissing him again, slowly, enjoying every subtle twitch he can draw out of Andrew. 

Soapy hands drag down his chest, gently, over his bruises. 

Neil still can’t quite believe that it’s over. At least for right now. 

Twenty two years later, his father is finally dead and somehow, Nathaniel Wesninski isn’t alone.

His heart is still beating in his chest, and he can feel his grin grow bigger. 

“Thank you,” Neil says against Andrew’s neck, “Thank you, Andrew.” 

Andrew hums, “For what?”

Neil, a man who used to know attachment means death, places another kiss against Andrew’s skin and whispers another truth. 

“For staying.”

-

It doesn’t take long for everyone, and the perpetrators behind the gifts, to show up.

At first, Neil panics when the hospital door bangs open and is about to go for a weapon before he realizes that it is in fact, Matt Boyd rushing towards him.

“If you do not want me hugging you, say stop right now.” 

Neil blinks in surprise, before he is being engulfed into large arms and a crying man. Over Matt’s shoulder he glances around the room as Dan, Renee, Seth, Wymack and Kevin walk in. But even more surprising is Allison, striding in behind Renee, her eyes mischievous when she meets Neil’s and winks. The other girls smile at him, Seth looks awkward with Kevin and Wymack slams a stack of paperwork on to the table before them. 

“Um? Guys?” Neil says weakly, “What’s going on?”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Matt cries instead of answering, holding the back of Neil’s head to his shoulder, “You idiot! You better know that we would do anything for you right?” 

Neil pulls away from Matt, staring at him in confusion for a moment until he hears Andrew makes a noise from behind him. 

All at once, it seems the room realizes that Andrew is here to begin with and the fact that he is currently being used as a cushion by Neil. 

“You forgot to tell him didn’t you?” Allison muses from her corner of the room.

“I may have forgotten to tell him that the precinct is aware of everything now.” Andrew confirms, “They helped us find you.” 

Neil blanches, before a choked, “What.” Slips past his lips, as his heart monitor starts rapidly beating beside them.

Not for the first time today, Neil is shocked. He stares at the room of people in front of them, of not pitying faces, nor fearful ones. Just slow smiles, or the bored acknowledgements that he has grown used to over the past months. His friends, who he thought he would be forced to lose, stand there with a softness - a feeling of a family - without caring where he had come from. Even Kevin, who is sitting next to Wymack now, is smiling at him. 

“Um?” Neil starts, unsure how to go on but Matt just claps his back. 

“You’re one of us buddy, son of a mobster or not. Just don’t tell the cops.” 

This doesn’t exactly comfort Neil, his eyes shifting to Kevin for a moment. Unsure he says, “...right.” 

Kevin notices the look, rolling his eyes in a striking act of self confidence, before speaking. 

“You don’t need to worry about the FBI either, Neil Josten is not Nathaniel Wesninski as far as they are aware.” 

Neil is not used to the rushing relief that hits him again, he manages a stiff nod. Trying to not let the others see the trembling of his fingers, and the way his breath comes out shaky. He feels Andrew shift behind him, close enough to pick up the change in his demeanor, warm hands press onto his back, close and comforting. 

“I told you that everything is covered, junkie.” His voice is low, low enough that the only person to pick it up is Matt who gives a sly look over his shoulder.

Wymack grunts, before handing Neil a piece of paper and another one to Andrew.

“I need ya to re-do this though, no more lies please and thank you. And no confessions in my precinct, alright?” 

Neil stares in bewilderment before looking down at the form before him, the same one he had done months ago to get the job, when he was nothing more but a lie. 

This time though, the name at the top isn’t just ‘Neil Josten’ but instead, 

‘ _Neil Abram Josten_.’

“Mads insisted on it, said it was too confusing if you didn’t keep something from before.” Andrew tells him, and Neil feels his eyes start to water. His gaze shifting to look at Andrew’s name also sprawled beside his in the partner box. 

“You’re really not firing me?” He asks, and Wymack sighs. 

“No, don’t ask me why I’m not, but, welcome back kid.”

Neil never knew what belonging felt like, but he thinks he might now. 

Andrew, who was too busy waiting for Neil’s reaction to his paper, finally glances down at his own and frowns, “What’s this?” He asks. 

“Promotion. Figured we need a new detective around here, thought maybe you’d be interested.” Wymack shrugs, “After closing the Butcher’s case, I figured it was sorta a given.” 

Andrew is a man who never shows much emotion, but the way he puts the sheet carefully on the bed and gives Wymack a firm nod, Neil thinks, it speaks enough of how he’s really feeling. 

With a sigh, Wymack stands, “Alright, you kids have given me more fucking grey hair and less time to live so I’m going to my whisky. Anyone else have any more secret identities I need to be aware of?” 

A choursed, “No, sir,” follows him out as Wymack grumbles a very firm, 

“ _Thank fucking god.”_

Everyone falls back into a comfortable silence again, this time Neil lets himself relax, reaching a hand over to squeeze Andrew’s knee. Grinning at him as he motions to the paper, to which Andrew brushes it off with a small shrug but Neil can’t miss the small quirk at the corner of his lip. 

Neil doesn’t think anyone else really pays attention to the interaction nor does he think they are going to comment on the fact that Andrew is still very clearly in bed with Neil. 

But he’s been wrong before. 

Especially when it comes to Allison who meets his eyes and Neil already knows he isn’t going like what happens next. 

Allison, a woman who feeds off chaos and Neil’s embarrassment, kicks her legs up on the edge of Neil’s bed once she’s seated in front of him. Eyes of a lion looking down at the couple laying before her. 

“You sure do make friends with a shocking amount of supposed ‘law enforcement’ when I’m not around, Nate.” She says with an easy smile, “Or, you know, fucking them, either way, I’m impressed.” 

A sputtering noise leaves Neil, he can already feel his face fill with heat, his hands flying out in front of him in a desperate attempt of denial but the room erupts into laughter. His defense completely drowned out. 

“Really bringing a new side to the ‘fucking the hot guard to get out of jail trope’. I see you, Josten.” Dan says, sliding a wink and Neil chokes on air. Before he’s spinning an accusing glare at Andrew behind him, who is throwing his hands up.

“Don’t look at me, look at her.” Andrew defends, pointing at Allison who twirls her hair around her finger as she cackles with the rest of the group. 

Even Renee is giggling with a hand covering her mouth.

The world feels light, something Neil isn’t used to. He doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, he doesn’t feel like death is waiting outside of the door. 

He feels safe. 

Here, in this room, surrounded by a group of people who accepted him, who saw him and still fought for him without question, who laugh with him, even at him, like a group of people who care about each other do. 

He’s safe. 

Of course there is so much more he still has to do. He has a criminal empire at his feet, people looking to him for his next move, questions he still needs answers too. 

But right now, he lets himself forget it, just for now. 

He feels the smile crack onto his face before he’s laughing too and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop, not when he sees Andrew smile at him, biting the inside of his lip to keep himself from laughing with Neil.

The laughter fizzles out when the group is distracted by Seth’s suddenly distressed voice - 

“Guys, I don’t get it. Seriously stop fucking around- Hey! Stop laughing at me!” 

Neil laughs harder

-

Neil Abram Josten is twenty two years old when he first finds love.

Gentle fingers skim up his face, Andrew’s eyes are warm as Neil stares at them. He doesn’t realize what Andrew is doing until he can feel the foriegn sensation of air against his face as his masks clatter to the ground between them. They is ash before they even hit the pillows.

Andrew’s hand is warm as it spreads across his cheek, covering old and new scars. Andrew’s gaze does not change even as Neil is laid bare before him, maskless for the first time since before he could remember. 

Lips hover over his own, Neil wants to close the gap but before he can, Andrew whispers a quiet demand against them. 

“Stop hiding.” 

So Neil does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, it's done.  
> first book is over. and yes! there is a sequel I have planned and there so much badass andreil in it I promise. I just can't say when I will begin uploading it. But it is there! 'The Nameless Reaper' will deal with the fallout of this story and the introduction of Nicky and Aaron. We have many plot points I have set up here that I wish to flesh out later (looking at you renee)
> 
> secondly, I want to say thank you so much to everyone who has supported me and commented on my chapters, or messages me on other platforms. I wouldn't have managed to power through with finishing this is if it wasn't for you all. You guys truly mean the world to me. I hope you weren't disappointed with the ending haha.
> 
> some specific people I want to thank is Nora (@so-many-fandoms-so-little-life) for being the best beta reader and being so patient with me and my horrific tenses (ooops) so please go give them some love! they really helped this story come to life.
> 
> I also want to thank Zip or (@ohnosten on twitter) for being the first person to talk about my story outside of here on twitter and making me lose my mind. As well as always leaving the best comments on my chapters that really kept my going. So thank you!!
> 
> I'm also adding Meep (@meep288 on twitter) here for drawing the first fan art for this story. It's fucking gorgeous and I'll leave the link here, but it had been my dream for anyone to draw something for my writing and they really did it!! so special thanks to them as well! (https://twitter.com/meep288/status/1310880601055002624?s=20)
> 
> This also goes out to everyone who has read, interacted, and done anything with this story. You all helped me in more ways than I think you can know, so thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and I hope you all have an amazing day! Thank you for reading. 
> 
> come yell at me on twitter or tumblr! let's be friends:) (@kanekicure)


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